Cascading Spirits
by bayre
Summary: Two sets of brothers, both hunters and hunted. A few murders and a past that refuses to die. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**_Many thanks to Banbury for the art and vid, there is a link to Live Journal and Website on my profile, the art for this fic can be seen there. Also thank you to Swellison for not only bidding on me and being responsible for the creation of this fic, but for her awesome betaing skills. Thank you Sendintheclowns for being a beta and 1oriel for support and great suggestions._**

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_The gurgling of water was what reached him initially. It was always the first thing, that sound, cheerful and signaling something tragic all at once._

_Grass squelching under his boots as he ran at the water, legs pumping, heart pounding. He was never fast enough. The outcome was always the same. Blue jacket billowed out from the water, arms spread to each side, curly dark hair, straightened by the water, fanned out in all directions. Surrounding him was air, sickly sweet and perfumed with freshly cut grass and flowers. The odor of death hovered and slithered across, breaking through the smells of summer._

"_No, no, no." His brain ranted over and over._

_Knees bending, Jim slid across the grass on his knees, reaching out to the body in the water, but he was too late—again. He was always too late. Noises filtered into his mind, people, Simon, Megan and Henri, talking, there was shouting, water splashing._

_Jim stopped, body reacting not to Blair floating in the fountain on campus, but to something else. His attention was pulled away as he jerked to one side. There, across the lawn was a wild cat. Large, spotted, a Jaguar—not solid black like his. This one was more compact. It stared him straight in the eye and pulled its lips up in a silent snarl for a few seconds. Then it was gone._

_The water gurgled and the grass scrunched softly under his steps. Blue and brown floated in the water._

_Panting in enormous breaths, trying and never quite succeeding in filling his lungs, Jim watched as his friend's—his best friend, his brother—body was pulled away from the water. Blair's mouth dropped open, water gurgled and bubbled out. His head lolled to one side, the force of gravity. Nothing else moved. _

_The world spun, green and brown and blue melded into one swirl sweeping around Jim's head. He focused on the gurgling of the water, the sound of it dripping off Blair's clothes and down from his face. His white, pasty, lifeless face._

_He was never quick enough, never on time. He was always too late, and Blair was always dead._

Except that Blair wasn't.

Water falling hit Jim's ears…he gulped and bolted upright. He was sitting on his bed, t-shirt stuck to his chest. He couldn't inhale and exhale fast enough to stop the world from swaying. Outside the sky streaked white and lightening flashed. Rain pelted the loft windows.

"Get a grip, Ellison." Jim swung his feet over the side of the bed and planted them firmly on the floor. Leaning forward he rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands over his face a few times.

When he'd gone to bed last night…a glance at his clock…well, earlier that night Blair Sandburg had been very much alive and annoying. Jim had to actually count on his fingers and do some mental math to think about how many years had past since the day Blair had been pulled, dead, from a fountain and resuscitated. That had been, what? Six years, almost seven now?

Shoving away from the bed, Jim paced to the railing and looked out over the loft. This was silly, Alex Barnes had been gone from their lives for more than half a decade and now he had nightmares about what she did to Blair?

"You're overreacting," he grumbled and went back to the bed, throwing himself down on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was a lovely ceiling. It needed repainting. Turning his head to the right, Jim blinked at the clock, three-thirty in the morning, thank you very much. Great, he and Blair didn't have to report for duty for eleven more hours and he'd probably never get back to sleep.

So much for sleeping in when he was scheduled for the night shift.

Jim sat up. Blair was alive and well and asleep downstairs. Relaxing he let the sounds of the loft wash over him, amplifying them until he was able to distinguish each individual noise. Blair was in the loft, Jim knew that by how the door was locked and the light over the cook-top was off. Concentrating harder, he worked on isolating Blair's heartbeat.

_What if Blair had company? Who was it he was going on about earlier, Candy? No, Chrissy, or was it Cathy…something like that. Remember the last time Blair had company and you heard?_

Jim abruptly stopped listening.

He lay back down. Two seconds later he was sitting up again. Maybe Blair had gone out after Jim went to bed and left the light on anyway? _Yeah, cause after all these years he'd do something different_ now.

Maybe if he just listened really fast, enough to hear if there was breathing and a heartbeat in Blair's room. _Panting and two heartbeats_.

Standing, he decided enough was enough. Jim wanted to know and he had two ways to find out. One was use his senses and maybe have to bleach his brain to erase the trauma—again, the last time was still too fresh and it'd been three years ago—or he could get his ass moving and go look. Sometimes the old ways were the best ways. He stalked to the stairs, foot hovering over the first step he turned back. This was insane, Blair had survived the attack by Alex, he wasn't dead. He wasn't.

"Screw it."

Pulling on a pair of jeans, Jim took the steps three at a time, getting down in record time. He crossed the main part of the loft until he was at Blair's bedroom door. If the kid was awake, if Jim woke him up—okay Blair slept like the dead, he wouldn't wake up—bad choice of words. Leaning against the wall, hand resting on the doorframe, Jim leaned in ever so slightly, holding his breath.

In the next instant Jim's entire body relaxed, he let out his breath and drew in another deep one. The soft, steady sound of Blair's light snores was easy enough to hear, even without superior hearing. Material rustled and scratched as Blair moved around, turning over from the sound of it, in his sleep. Jim stood quietly for a few minutes, simply listening to the sounds of his friend sleeping.

Finally he started to feel a bit creepy and like a stalker, so Jim moved away, carefully looking in every nook and cranny of the loft. He checked the door locks, three times, and walked slowly along the row of windows, looking out at the night. Rain had turned to drizzle, gray clouds peppered the darker night sky.

Everything was just dandy. No Alex Barnes and her spotted Jaguar. No fountain with his best friend floating face down in it and no reason for Jim to be awake.

Grumbling, Jim went back up the steps and back to bed. He must have fallen asleep because the next time he opened his eyes he was staring at his ceiling. In the light of day it really did look as if it needed repainting. Smells from the kitchen wafted up; he swore he let Blair continue living there simply because he made the best damn coffee known to mankind.

Stifling a yawn, Jim pulled on the same jeans he'd put on so hastily last night and ambled down the steps.

"Here I thought you'd be up way before me, but you took this whole working nights and sleeping in thing to heart." Blair grinned and poured coffee into a mug, sliding it along the counter at Jim.

"Uh-huh."

"Hungry? I got some—"

Jim held up one hand, some things never changed. "Don't explain it to me. Just put it on a plate, Chief."

Blair shrugged good-naturedly and grabbed plates and silverware. He filled the plates and set them on the table, straddling his chair and pushing hair out of his face. "Sleep good?"

"Why?"

Forkful of food stopped halfway to Blair's mouth and his eyebrows shot up. "Just making conversation. Touchy much?"

"Sorry." Jim pushed his food around, aware the entire time Blair was watching him, but trying to look like he wasn't watching. He shoved some of the food into his mouth, surprised. "This is good."

Bright grin replacing a frown, Blair waved in the general direction of the kitchen. "There's plenty." He ate in silence for a few minutes before he got up and refilled his coffee mug. "Hey, Jim, you uh…have you heard anything lately about…um…Alex Barnes?"

Jim's coffee mug dropped out of his hand before he could process he'd let go. "Oh, ow, crap!" Jumping up he swatted the hot liquid off his lap and made a grab for a napkin to mop the mess up.

Blair sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed a dishrag, wiping the table clean. "Sorry. I'm sorry, but the last few days for no reason I've thought of her. I wondered if there was some new evidence or information and no one would want to tell me. You know, to protect me."

"First of all, I'd tell you if I knew anything you didn't know." The words snapped out, he hadn't intended to sound so nasty.

Blair's face immediately fell. He threw the rag at the sink. "I just thought it was odd after all this time."

"What thoughts did you have?" Jim sat back down.

Shrugging, this time Blair's shoulders were tense, "Just stuff. Sometimes I think about that day, not often. The last few days, it's been a lot. Kinda bugged me and then last night I had a dream about her."

"Me too." Jim blurted out.

"What?"

"I saw it happen all over again, you floating in the fountain. I saw her Jaguar. I could even feel and smell the grass and water. It was pretty vivid."

"You know, I work really hard at not remembering what happened."

"Me too," Jim admitted.

Blair sat down and gave him that look. The one that read no bad things happened to Blair as long as Jim was around. Sucking his lower lip between his teeth, Blair ran one hand through his hair and looked around the loft.

"Look, Chief, we'll check it out, see if there's something about her we don't know. She's gone, she can't hurt either of us anymore." He stood up, feeling more confident. "Get dressed, we've got some errands to run before work."

Finding out about Alex didn't take a genius, or even two, and it didn't take a lot of time or effort. She'd been committed to an institution, other than specifics of her medical care, everything else was public record. Learning she'd actually died more than a year ago set Jim's nerves on edge, but obviously made Blair relax. He didn't know why that piece of information didn't bring comfort and he didn't care. It made Blair feel better; he could see it in the man's face and his entire stance.

Her body had been released to the family of her boyfriend, Carl Hettinger, cremated to make shipping easier. They were wealthier than God, but practical Jim realized. Careful spending was the reason they amassed so much money to begin with; that and a dozen or so illegal enterprises. None of which were his or Blair's concern; her boyfriend's family lived out of the country.

Jim's only concern was his partner and keeping him safe. Blair seemed more than content with knowing Alex was dead, so Jim was content too. Those facts didn't mean they wouldn't be vigilant and aware, but against what, Jim had no clue.

* * *

Sam sat staring at his phone, more to the point the email on his phone. Movement outside the car caught his attention and for a minute he watched his big brother, Dean, putzing around doing something near the front of the car before he wandered over to Sam's side and leaned down to look in the window. It was warm and there was a soft breeze making the trees along the roadside wave side to side.

"How far are we from Ranier University?" Sam blurted out. No preamble, no preparation, no soft-sell, it was the Winchester way.

"In Cascade?" Dean shrugged. "Do I look like Rand McNally to you?"

"Yes, you do. Ever since you were ten you've know how far we are from anything in the North American continent." Sam offered his brother a smug smile; it was like throwing down a gauntlet. Dean never backed away from a challenge.

Dean curled up the right side of his upper lip and sighed. "About three hours, smartass. Why?"

"Let's go."

"Why?"

"Cause we need to lay low for a bit and maybe take a break. A buddy of mine from Stanford transferred up there and says it's really nice this time of year and—"

"And you want to go back to school." It wasn't a question and Dean sort of spat the words at him.

Sam shook his head. "No, not now. Maybe someday, but I just thought we could go. Do something that's not hunting. For one day, that's all I'm asking. Besides aren't you the one always so interested in that area and telling me how Dad says in his journal over and over how there is never anything supernatural there. It's a clean spot. Isn't that sort of like a case?"

"Low blow, Sammy."

Grinning, Sam sat back and put on his best innocent expression. The use of _Sammy_ meant Dean had conceded. Jogging to the driver's side, Dean slid into the car and started the engine. "So, tell me what you know about why Cascade is so clean."

Sam grinned and shook his head. "I have no idea. Isn't that the purpose of _investigating_, to find out?"

Dean turned and glared at him, eyes narrowing for a few seconds before he muttered something obscene and the phrase _pain in my ass _under his breath; shook his head and put the car in gear. Sam pretended not to notice and turned his attention back to his phone, emailing a reply that they were on their way.

Approximately three hours later, as predicted, they rolled into the quiet college campus. Despite Dean's constant teasing over college, Sam had come to realize his big brother loved college campuses. Well, maybe it was more he loved the girls on college campuses, but either way, the guy sure did to seem to enjoy them before he'd even stopped the car and gotten out.

It didn't take them long to find the older building and small apartment of Jeff Young. Jeff must have been happy to see Sam, or lonely and not yet made friends in his new school because he was waiting outside his door for them.

"Hey, guys!" Jeff boomed and Sam remembered the guy never really talked normally, he stage shouted, voice booming, or laughed. "Come on in."

A quick glance behind at his brother ambling down the hall to stand beside him had Sam talking fast. Dean had that _look_. The one where he appraised people, tending to forget that not everyone they met was some monster. "Hi. It's good to see you. This is my brother—"

Grabbing poor Dean in a bear hug, Jeff patted—slammed—his back a few times before letting loose with a jovial, "DEAN!"

Extricating himself, Dean sort of smiled, maybe it was more like a grimace, and took a step back from Jeff. "Hello."

His gaze landed on Sam, who rubbed at one ear and when Jeff turned and flung his apartment door open, he mouthed the words, _hearing problem_. Dean simply rolled his eyes.

"It's so cool to finally meet you. Sam told me about you that week you were at school with him."

When his brother's eyebrows shot up, Sam looked down and scuffed his toe along the hard wood floor. Turning his head far enough to catch Dean's eye he mumbled, "Get over yourself." He looked around the small apartment; it was actually one big room with a bathroom off to the side. "This is great."

"Yeah, sort of small, but a studio apartment fit the budget the best." Jeff headed toward a counter, behind that was the small kitchen. "Not really stocked up for much entertaining. You guys are welcome to bunk here though."

Sam looked over at Dean who shrugged then plastered a smile on his face. "We take up too much room. I'm sure we can find a motel nearby, right, Sammy?"

His arm was whacked by the back of Dean's hand. "Yeah." Looking around the apartment, Sam's attention fell on a painting hanging on one wall. It was jungle plants in serene colors of brown and green, in the middle was some sort of shrine or temple. "Hey, this is cool." Stepping closer for a better look, Sam's fingers brushed lightly over the canvas. He straightened and took a step away, turning he ran one hand through his hair pulling his bangs away from his face. The painting suddenly wasn't so cool and appealing. There was nothing specific Sam could put his finger on, but it was as if it'd sparked against his skin, that it didn't like him touching it.

The serene greens and browns of the jungle scene took on a menacing quality. He couldn't have slept at night with that thing staring at him. Thankfully they were finding a motel.

"There was an auction a few weeks ago, got it there. Not like I can afford a ton of stuff to brighten the place up with, but that jumped out at me."

"So," Dean rocked back on his heels and rubbed at his middle, watching Sam in that careful way he sometimes did. "I'm hungry."

"Sweet! There is the most darling place not far from here, just a little bar, but great food and nice inside."

Sam gave Dean a sidelong glance and a small smile, relieved to be getting out of the apartment that was suddenly too small for three grown men.

Back outside a few minutes later and Sam breathed a little easier. He convinced himself he'd been cooped up in their car for too long the last few days and he was hungry. Low blood sugar could do that to a guy, make them nervous and edgy and think paintings didn't like him. Jeff was in the back of the Impala a few seconds later, yammering about what a wonderful car it was.

Dean stopped mid-stride, turned and leaned on the top of the car, eyebrows going up. Sam shrugged and nodded, turning on the innocent look, lips forming one silent word, _gay_. Dean's forehead banged on the roof of the car twice before he huffed a sigh and got inside.

While Jeff hung over the seat and pointed out directions to Dean, Sam sat hoping his brother didn't bite off the guy's finger and took a look around at the campus. Jeff had been wholly correct in his email, it was very nice this time of year and Rainer was a great campus. Older buildings mixed with newer ones, trees, flowers and shrubs dotted the areas between and paved sidewalks wound their way from one building to the next. It was smaller than Stanford, and Sam thought, nicer.

As they drove through one section, Jeff playing tour guide, there was the science building, the social sciences building, the administration building…Sam's gaze landed on a fountain and Jeff's voice became background noise. Water bubbled cheerfully down from a sculpture in the center. A small, well manicured bit of lawn surrounded it. The thing was tranquil and beautiful—and creepy as hell.

Sam leaned back farther in his seat. Where had that come from? It was unsettling. He hated that fountain, it scared the crap out of him and he had no idea why. Definitely low blood sugar. First paintings didn't like him and now he didn't like perfectly nice, innocent fountains.

"Hey, you coming or what?" Dean leaning back _into_ the car—when had the car stopped and when had Dean and Jeff gotten out?—then play punching his shoulder jolted Sam away from thoughts of beautiful, creepy fountains, irritable paintings and to the here and now.

"Um, yeah, sorry." Fumbling with the door handle for a second, Sam finally was free of the car and trailing after Dean and Jeff into the bar. He couldn't help looking back over his shoulder; the fountain was still in sight. Suppressing a shiver he turned his attention to the lower lighting of the bar and following Dean.

The bar was your average bar, Sam watched as his brother did a fast visual sweep of the entire place, apparently deciding it was stay worthy and wandered to a booth.

Jeff and Dean seemed to get along fine, despite Jeff constantly pointing out facts on the bar's décor. Sam sipped his beer, took a deep breath and shook away thoughts of the fountain and the painting.

Once they'd finished their meal they left Jeff, promising to be back in a bit after they'd found a motel and gotten checked in. As Dean drove, Sam made a real effort to not look at the fountain, though it seemed to be everywhere. The motel they found was only a few blocks from the bar and Jeff's building, so leaving the Impala there they went on foot back to meet up with Jeff.

The place was nice and quiet and it was good to visit with his friend. After a few hours, a few more beers and a full stomach Sam forgot all about the fountain and the painting.

Not leaving until the bar was closing, they walked along the street. The night air was cool and clean smelling. Soft sounds from others leaving and heading home for the night drifted through the air. Sam knew there was no way this would ever be his life or Dean's, but it was sure nice to take a break for a few days.

Then he remembered the fountain. It loomed up in front of them, when they reached it Jeff would go one way, Dean and Sam another to their respective places. Water gurgled and bubbled out of the sculpture that was too bright and an eerie whitish color to rain down on the pool below, causing little drops to dance and ping off the surface. Sam pulled in a quick breath, stumbled for a few steps, not recovering until Dean's hand gripped his elbow and steadied him.

"Sidewalk's cracked." Sam managed a quick laugh and got himself together. "One too many beers."

"I think we'd better head to the motel, too much driving, we're both loopy." Dean was ever smooth. His hand did not leave Sam's elbow, instead there was constant pressure there to move along faster. "Besides, my brother can't hold his booze."

"Oh, I know," Jeff laughed; he didn't seem to notice anything amiss. He happily waved them good-night and jogged down the street toward his building.

Dean didn't let go of Sam's arm until they were safely inside their room, door shut and locked. "What was that, Sam?"

"I…nothing, drop it, Dean."

"Bullshit it was nothing. First you get all weird over a stupid picture on a wall and now you look like someone who's just seen their first ghost. Seriously, Sam, you saw your first ghost when you were ten, so I know you're over it by now."

He was trapped and knew it. "I…there was…Dean there was a dead body floating in that fountain, just for a few seconds, I saw it."

"Vision?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "Not _that_ kind anyway. It was just a flash. There was the fountain and another one over it for a few seconds. A man, sort of hippy looking, he was floating in the water. I think he was dead. I couldn't tell how tall he was, but he was maybe a few years older than you and had a lot of dark, really curly brown hair. And um…blue jacket or maybe it was shirt, I'm not sure."

"There wasn't anyone in the water," Dean said quietly.

"I know, I blinked and it—he was gone."

"So much for Cascade not having anything supernatural around."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam did his best to ignore the light, annoying swishing of something under his nose. It tickled. "Go aw'y De'n." He brushed it away and rolled over, burying his head in his pillow.

Something poked his shoulder. It felt suspiciously like a finger, Dean's finger.

"Touch me again and you are dead," Sam turned his head far enough to grumble out his warning.

"C'mon, Sammy, up and at 'em! Let's go!" The way Dean made his voice do that sing-song thing was even more annoying than the poking and tickling.

When the blankets were ripped off Sam, he rolled over, pushed up on his elbows and shouted, "Dude! What?"

"We've got a case, Sam. We need to work it."

Rubbing one hand over his face, Sam sighed, "A case?" He glared at Dean. Dean smiled happily and waved the air in front of him in a _hurry_ _up_ motion. Sam glanced at the clock then swung over the side of the bed and looked under it.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking for pods." Straightening, Sam twisted the clock so he could see it. "It's seven-fifteen in the morning. Who are you and what have you done with my brother? _My_ brother hasn't been up this early in the morning without a gun to the head in…since…well a really long time."

Dean crossed both hands over his chest and pulled a face. "Ha ha, you're such a comedian, Sam. Let's go." He darted forward, ran one finger up the bottom of Sam's foot and jumped clear of the pillow Sam flung at him.

"You're serious about this?"

"You betcha, Sammy! Cascade, the one place in all of North America with no supernatural activity, none, zip, zilch, nada, and we find a ghost. I'm cracking this puppy wide open."

Sam lumbered to his feet and found his duffel, digging out some clean clothes. "Who is going to know, Dean?"

"Me, that's who. Now, I talked to Jeff, he works in a coffee shop and he's expecting us to meet him there for breakfast in twenty, so either get your ass in the shower or I'll drag you outside and hose you off. Pick."

Heading for the bathroom, Sam grumped, "I like you better when all you want to do is sleep till noon." He slammed the door shut on whatever Dean thought was a cute and catchy comeback.

Three-quarters of an hour later Sam was sitting at a booth in the college coffee house watching Dean inhale his third breakfast muffin. Granted the things were good, but not that good. On their way they'd taken the scenic route, walking casually and looking everywhere for a man matching the description of the one in Sam's vision. They'd found a few other early risers, who were pretty chatty and wanted to talk about the fountain and its oddities.

It'd been a total bust, but at least Dean didn't press the issue when Sam hadn't wanted to go anywhere near the fountain.

"So what do we have?" Dean tipped his chin at the small notebook Sam was carrying.

"Not much. Quite a few years ago, late nineties, someone was found in the fountain, but I got conflicting stories, one that he died, another that he didn't. The past few weeks a few students out late at night—probably drunk or high—claimed to have seen a tall, blonde woman standing _near_ the fountain. Same story from everyone. She's there one minute, they blink and she's gone."

"And this doesn't scream ghost…haunting…spirit to you? Not everyone out late at night is baked you know."

"I know and yes, it does. I didn't see a woman, I clearly saw a man floating in the fountain."

"Maybe the guy in the nineties is our ghost? Could be he did die and now he's back?"

"Then why did these other witnesses see a woman, and I saw a man?"

"Good point," Dean said. "Could be a warning, or you're seeing the remains of something that happened before."

"What's our next step? This is going nowhere." Sam rubbed at his forehead then took another sip of coffee.

"We need to do some more digging. Find out about the floater from before and see if we can hunt down this blonde woman." Dean took a bite of his fourth muffin, groaning. He took a mouthful of coffee and moaned. "God, this stuff is good."

Sam couldn't help the eye-roll or the smile. "Jeff gets off work in a couple of hours. He said he'd take me to the student bookstore, I can get some computer stuff and maybe some reference books pretty cheap. You want to come with?" Dean stopped chewing and stared at Sam as if he had six heads. Grinning more Sam shrugged. "Just asking, man. Did you want me to pick you up anything?"

The expression on Dean's face made Sam laugh outright.

"In the meantime…" Dean glanced at his watch, "…let's go do some digging."

"Um hum." Sam slid out of the booth and went to the counter. Jeff looked over at him, smiled and nodded. "I'll be back at noon." Jeff gave him the thumbs up and Sam waved him good-bye then trailed after Dean.

They stopped first at the campus library. While Sam searched through online data, Dean leafed through copies of old newspapers.

"We should go through the yearbooks, too." Dean sat back and rubbed at his eyes.

Sam glanced at his watch and nodded. "Yeah, we should, but I'm saving that bit of fun for later. You sure you don't want to go with Jeff and me?"

"No," Dean snorted. "I'm going to nose around campus some more. See ya in a few hours?"

Standing and stretching, Sam patted Dean's shoulder on the way by. "I'll be back in two hours, tops."

"Have fun."

Sam walked the short distance from the library to the coffee shop, purposely keeping his head down and eyes focused on the sidewalk. That way he couldn't see that awful fountain. He didn't want to see how the water lapped around, displaced by a body. Or how the man's hair fanned out and bobbed, almost cheerfully, in the ripples of water. Sam could still close his eyes and picture how the man's clothes billowed out, the edges of his jacked flapping softly in the water.

He ignored the sound of voices, the gurgling of the water as it bubbled from the statue and fell to the pond at the fountain's base. Shoes came into view at about the same time Sam ran into something beefy that didn't yield.

Instead it shoved him back a step and growled out, "Hey, kid, watch where you're going."

Sam looked _up_ into the face of a police officer. Dark gray eyes glared at him, waiting for a response. "I…uh…I'm so sorry…" His voice caught in his throat when he took a better look around.

"Hey, Sam," Jeff called and jogged across the commons, around yellow tape and a sizeable crowd.

Sam shut his mouth and turned on his heels, taking in the entire scene. There was a crowd of people around the fountain, but back a few yards, held away by yellow police tape strung completely around the fountain, making a wide perimeter. There was an ambulance, but it wasn't running. The back doors stood open and a gurney sat between it and the fountain.

"Sam, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." Jeff's hand landing on Sam's shoulder made him start, turning toward his friend.

"That's not—" Sam looked back at the fountain.

Floating in the water of the fountain, was a pretty girl. Her light straw colored hair waved back and forth in the water. The skirt she wore hugged her legs, she was missing shoes.

"Not what?" Jeff asked. He smiled at the cop, took Sam's arm and started backing away.

"Not the guy I saw before," Sam barely whispered out. "No dark hair, no blue jacket."

"What?"

"Uh, nothing, never mind. I've got to find—"

A man stepped in front of Sam, not a uniformed police officer, but a guy flashing a badge, plain clothes detective. "I need to ask you a few questions. Sam, is it?"

Pressing his lips to a tight line, Sam simply nodded. Then he got a look at the man standing to the side and slightly behind the detective. Shorter, longish curly brown hair, it was him. Blinking, trying to get his brain to catch up with what he saw, Sam barely avoided blurting out this was who he saw floating in the fountain the day before. He couldn't lie about his name, Jeff was standing right there, Jeff knew his real name. He had no idea why this cop wanted to talk to him, but it couldn't be good.

Blair sat quietly, staring out the passenger side window of Jim's truck.

* * *

"Are you sure you're—"

"Yes," Blair said without turning toward his partner. "No. Maybe. I have to do this, Jim. I know maybe you don't understand, but I have to face this." He chuckled out a short, nervous laugh. "It was almost ten years ago. I've been by that fountain hundreds of times since, it's okay."

"Who are you trying to convince, you or me? Most the time you go by that fountain there isn't anyone dead in it."

"Yeah, well, that's probably a good thing." Blair twisted around in his seat when the truck came to a smooth stop. He took a deep breath, looking out at the crowd, the fountain at its epicenter and a dead girl smack center of the bullseye that was the fountain.

"You don't have to do this."

"That would be a pretty wimpy thing to do, sit out, hide behind you." Blair didn't mean to snap the words out as harshly as he did.

Jim sighed, gripped the steering wheel with both hands and looked straight out the front windshield. "No one would think you were hiding or wimpy. You died there." He waved at the fountain.

"I was there, I know." Blair snapped, this time meaning it, and shoved the truck door open, pushing it viciously closed, catching a glimpse of Jim's head dropping till his chin nearly hit his chest. He stalked a few feet before he turned and glared at Jim, still sitting in the truck. Throwing both hands in the air he shouted, "Are you coming or are you going to make me investigate this all by myself?"

Rubbing the back of his head a few times, Jim looked up and put that fake smile on his face he often used when he didn't believe a witness but didn't want them to know, and got out of the truck. He very carefully and quietly closed the truck door before taking a slow look around the area, pointed to an ambulance and headed in that direction. "Let's start there."

Blair nodded. Biting his lip, he waited until Jim walked by before he started walking. Maybe he'd hide behind Jim just a little bit.

As they walked, he kept an eye on his partner, recognizing the signs almost without having to look anymore because it was such a habit. Jim was already working the crowd, listening for changes in heartbeats that might indicate the killer was here, watching. Listening to words others in the crowd couldn't possibly hear. A few short minutes and they were standing next to the ambulance, waiting while the body was pulled from the water.

It was a girl, probably a student here from her age and what she wore. Blair ducked his head and looked away to the Anthro building when she was loaded onto the waiting gurney. A gentle tap on his arm, fingers pulling lightly on his shirt sleeve, Jim clearing his throat and Blair was moved back a few steps. He went willingly. This was much more difficult than he thought it would be and Jim seemed to know that.

Sidestepping until he was between Blair and the open ambulance doors, blocking Blair's view of the body, Jim nodded at the coroner. She was a pleasant middle age lady, Blair liked her. He always wondered why someone so kind and quick to offer a smile might want to do that particular job.

"What do we have?" Jim asked.

The coroner, Sally McPherson, sighed and shook her head. "A damn shame, that's what, Detective Ellison. According to her student ID, she was Emily Grant, twenty-two. I haven't heard much, but so far the officers who arrived first on the scene told me that no one saw or heard a thing." Sally stopped long enough to squint up into the sky, shaking her head again. "Broad daylight, nice, clear, summer day in the middle of a busy campus and this fountain has nothing but water one minute and a dead girl in it the next."

"No one saw or heard anything?" Blair somehow managed to keep his voice even, but he had no idea how. The sideways glance Jim shot in his direction told him his partner had heard the slight tremble, probably heard the way he sucked in his breath and let it out in short bursts too.

"I'm going to take a closer look at the fountain," Jim said.

As he stepped away, Blair drew in a deep breath, preparing to follow. Without looking back at him, Jim held one hand out and kept walking. Blair decided it to heed his silent request and stay put, just this one time. Never letting his eyes leave Jim, Blair watched as he walked slowly around the fountain, stopping here and there, once kneeling down to examine some bit of grass with his finger tips.

All these years and it never once ceased to amaze and fascinate Blair what Jim could feel or smell, see or hear. Watching was a treat and sheer entertainment sometimes. Long ago he'd started his own silent game in his head, trying to guess what senses Jim was using and what they were telling him. This one was easy; he was feeling the grass for depressions or maybe some sign of blood.

The way Jim stood and scanned the crowd, Blair could tell he'd picked up on something and was searching that something out. A slight head tilt told Blair that Jim had heard something that piqued his interest. Following Jim's line of vision, Blair saw people, some in pairs others in larger groups milling around. When Jim stopped his slow turn and squinted ever so slightly Blair concentrated on the two young men Jim seemed interested in.

One he'd seen around campus, the other kid was someone Blair had never seen before. That one was who Jim stared at for a few seconds before glancing back at him, dipping his head to one side and waited for Blair to catch up. The one kid looked like an average college student.

The other kid was a different story. Tall, with shaggy brown hair that needed a cut, he had jeans that weren't baggy and ripped because of fashion, but because that's what he could afford to buy. He had a slight slouch that told Blair he was trying desperately to blend in, despite how his height made him stand out. Dark, intelligent eyes looked everywhere, took in everything. This boy was smart as a whip and freaked as hell.

Blair picked up his pace when Jim headed straight for the taller boy. He highly doubted this kid killed the girl and left her in the fountain, but Jim had picked up on something. Possibly he knew her or had seen something.

Jim stopped in front of the two boys, focusing intently on the taller, scragglier of the two. Holding up his badge he said, "I need to ask you a few questions. Sam is it?"

The kid—Sam—looked at Jim for all of about three seconds then seemed to look straight through him to Blair. Color dropped from his face. He swallowed hard and blinked a few times. Even without super sense Blair could see this kid wasn't guilty of anything and the sight of Blair scared the crap out of him. His gaze darted from Blair to the fountain and back again in a way that was completely unnerving, like he knew.

It hit Blair right then, this boy _knew_. He didn't know how or why, but this kid knew what had happened to Blair seven years ago and had expected to see him in the water, not standing in front of him. It was written all over the kid's face.

Looking at the other kid, Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Jim cut him off. "I only want to ask you a few questions, nothing serious, I promise." He had that placating tone. Taking firm hold of Sam's arm, Jim started to turn him away, nodding back at the other kid. "He won't be long, don't worry." As soon as they were away from the other kid and on the outskirts of the crowd Jim's demeanor changed. Stopping, Blair saw how Jim's fingers tightened around Sam's arm. "I heard what you said, how _she_ wasn't who you saw. What…who did you expect? Some one who was a man, dark curly longish hair?"

Blair's gasp was a split second behind Sam's.

"Maybe you noticed that my partner here matches that description?"

"I…I don't…are you arresting me?"

"I will if you don't talk to me," Jim snapped.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder then all around them, obviously looking for someone. Blair doubted he was looking for the kid they'd first seen him with. At once Jim's head turned, he was looking, too. When he turned back to Blair, he shook his head the barest amount. He might have known this kid, Sam, was looking for someone, but the exact who wasn't clear. It could have been any one of the dozens of men and women still milling about the area.

"What's your last name? Got any ID? Do you go to school here?"

"I'm here visiting my buddy, that guy I was with. Just checking out the campus, is that illegal now?" Sam seemed to have recovered, though he was obviously avoiding looking at Blair. He drew himself up to his full height, slouch gone. So was the lost boy look, though his eyes still flickered alternately with panic and a calculating shrewdness Blair had to admire. There weren't a lot of people in this world who'd stand up to Jim like that.

He didn't exactly exude confidence, but he wasn't afraid either. Maybe wary was a better term Blair decided.

"You're going to start talking to me, tell me why you were expecting him to be in that water or you're heading for the inside of a jail cell never to see the light of day again." Jim was losing patience; Blair didn't need super sight to see that.

"But it wasn't him, I don't think so. How old are you? What I…it was a dream I had…the guy looked like you, but not, younger maybe."

"Jim," Blair said, stepping close enough to touch two fingers to Jim's chest. "Maybe we should go up to my office." He nodded at the Anthro building. "Talk to Sam there. 'Cause I don't mind saying, man, I could really sit down about now."

The way Jim's gaze dropped to Blair's fingers then came back up to meet his, Blair knew Jim had felt the queasiness, the near panic thrumming through Blair just from the touch of his fingertips.

Nodding, Jim gave Sam a slight nudge toward the building housing Blair's office. "Good idea, Chief."

Sam was silent during the short walk to the building and up the steps to Blair's office. Blair saw how his eyes shifted back and forth, still searching for someone. It was easy enough to spot, Blair had sure done it enough himself to know.

Once they were safely inside Blair's office, door closed, shutting out the outside world, Blair relaxed. He walked to his desk, leaning against it. Jim sat Sam in a chair at the small, round conference table, crossed both arms over his chest and glared down at the boy.

"What do you know about the girl who died today?" Jim asked.

Sam shook his head, looking from Jim to Blair and back again quickly. "Nothing. I want to call my lawyer."

"You over eighteen?" Jim countered. When Sam only nodded, Jim continued, "You're not under arrest, and not under age, so no need for a lawyer. Just tell me what you know and how you know it."

Shifting nervously, Sam's fingers slid back and forth a few times over the table top. "I still have a right to my lawyer." He stood up. "And if I'm not under arrest, then I'm leaving."

Jim's hand landed so hard on the kid's shoulder Blair heard the thud. The second thud from Sam's ass hitting the chair when he was sat back down made Blair wince. That had to sting. Sam's matching wince confirmed what Blair suspected. "Listen, kid—"

"Sam," the kid snapped.

"Fine, Sam, listen up," Jim's voice was starting to rise, as was his temper; that was plain to Blair.

Pushing away from his desk, Blair crossed the room in a few quick strides. Sam wasn't looking for his lawyer; he doubted the kid even had a lawyer. It was clear to Blair Sam was striving for was help, a way out as well as the back up of someone he trusted and very desperately wanted with him. "Maybe we should let him call. There is no reason to deny him that, is there?"

Jim huffed, annoyance moving into true pissed off. "Fine. Go ahead."

Sam looked from one to the other again before fishing a cell phone out of his jeans pocket. He flipped it open and scrolled through the contacts list, hitting one he put the phone to his ear.

"Your lawyer is on speed dial on your phone?" Jim didn't even try to conceal his sarcasm.

Glancing at him, Sam shrugged. "Family friend. That's why I was looking at this college."

Jim turned away so Sam couldn't see his face, gaze meeting Blair's. He rolled his eyes and mouthed a single word. _Lying_. Blair ducked his head, the corner of his mouth twitched up to a short-lived smirk.

"Hi, yeah, it's me, Sam…Sam Win—Sam." Sam paused and shifted in his chair, putting more of his back to them. "I um, need a favor, not as your friend, but from a lawyer. Okay, thanks. I'm in the Anthro building at Ranier, second floor, office of…" Sam turned and looked at Blair expectantly.

"Blair Sandburg."

"Office of Blair Sandburg. Thanks." Sam ended the call and quietly returned the phone to his pocket.

"Look, while we're waiting why don't you tell us about yourself." Jim pulled the chair next to Sam out and sat in it. "Like for instance why is it your _lawyer_ happens to live here."

"He has to live somewhere," Sam mumbled.

"And you dream about people being murdered and left in that fountain?" Jim pressed.

"Not exactly. It wasn't like I wanted to see that or know. Look, I want to wait for my lawyer to get here."

"What's his name, your lawyer?" Blair cut off whatever Jim was going to ask next. "Known him long?"

"My whole life," Sam answered at once. "Like I said, family friend."

"Look, son," Jim's voice softened and he leaned forward.

"I'm not your son," Sam snapped.

That surprised Blair, Jim too by the looks of the way he sat back in his chair and blinked.

"How come a cop has a faculty office in a university?" An icy glare was turned on Blair.

One smartass student was the same as the next; Blair had all sorts of experience with those. "I teach anthropology here, which led me to consulting for the Cascade PD, which led me to deciding I liked police work better. No law against having two jobs."

"Consulting why?"

Blair said a silent prayer of thanks when the door burst open and a young man strutted through saving him from any further questions on his career choices. He reeked of confidence and bluster. Gaze sweeping the room he took in every detail so quickly it was unnerving. Nodding to Blair he skirted around the table, opposite of where Jim sat and went straight to Sam. Both hands resting lightly on the younger man's shoulders the newcomer focused his entire attention on Sam.

"Are you alright?" The _lawyer_ asked. He spared Jim a menacing glare then looked back at Sam. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

Jim grumbled something incomprehensible, and that was probably a good thing, under his breath and stood up. "No, of course he wasn't hurt. I'm Detective Ellison," he motioned to Blair, "this is my partner, Blair Sandburg. And you are?"

"Dean Rudd. Yes, I'm his lawyer. What I want to know is why is he being held and why was I dragged away from getting ready for my fishing trip? Those fish are biting and they're not waiting all damn day."

"Fishing trip? Really?" Jim asked.

"What, lawyers can't fish? Do you fish?"

"Yes," Jim nodded.

"Oh cops can, but lawyers can't? I moved to this area because of the great outdoors just minutes from my neighborhood."

Blair stood watching the exchange. This man, Dean Rudd, he was no damn lawyer, that was for sure. What he was was Jim in another suit. He may not have been a sentinel, but he certainly was a hunter, a protector.

It was sort of entertaining, watching them size one another up.

"That doesn't look like fishing clothes to me." Jim pointed to Dean's shirt, crossed his arms over his chest, rocked back on his heels and waited.

Blair could literally see the words dangling in the air, _ball's in your court buddy_. They were two very alpha males, natural enemies, each protecting something—someone—important to them. Yep, this was going to be entertaining even if it wasn't informative.

Dean's grip on Sam's shoulders tightened for a second before he relaxed and let his hands fall away, held loosely at his sides. He met Jim's gaze steadily, not an ounce of fear, not for himself at any rate. He smiled, same fake smile Jim used. Must be a thing with those types of guys Blair decided.

Jim broke off his gaze first, which was pretty amazing, but Blair saw it for what it was. He recognized this man, Dean, was as much a hunter as Jim was and wanted to lull him into some false sense of security. Drawing in a slow breath, Jim focused on Sam again. "So, Sam…" a quick glance at Dean then back to Sam, "…now that your _lawyer_ is here, tell me again, what did you see?"

Sam huffed out an annoyed sigh and scratched at the back of his hand. "I had a dream, sort of, and I saw a _guy_ floating in that pond around the fountain. A dead _guy_."

"Sam! Will you quit with that freak psychic stuff?" Dean's hand landed on Sam's shoulder again.

"What, just because he does something you don't understand, he's a freak?" Jim's voice rose with every word, his reaction catching Blair completely off guard.

"What? No!" Dean said. He shifted his weight, fingers clamping down on Sam's shoulder until his knuckles blanched, moving so he was more between Jim and Blair and the boy sitting at the table.

"Jim," Blair got close enough to his partner to tug on his shirt and get him to focus more on him. "Is he lying?"

"Him?" Jim pointed at Sam. "No. But," he turned and pointed at Dean, grinding out, "he sure as hell is."

"Why would he lie?" Sam started to stand up, but was held in place by Dean's hand.

"You think I'm lying, about what, wanting to fish?" Dean growled out.

Yeah, this was going nowhere at a really high velocity. Jim had skills, this Dean guy obviously had skills, Sam's might be better concealed, but Blair wasn't without skills and resources and training too. Time to put the big, fancy education he'd gotten for himself to work for him. Holding up his hands, trying to placate the far too much testosterone floating around, Blair let his voice rise enough to be heard above the other three. "Hey, stop. Guys." Three sets of eyes turned to look at him. "No one is accusing anyone of anything, we're just curious."

"You know what?" Sam stood up, brushed Dean away and nearly knocked over his chair. "This is bullshit!"

"Not helping, kid," Blair muttered.

"You think I did something wrong? Then arrest me and charge me, otherwise let me go." Sam's upper lip was twitching.

"Sammy!" Dean barked, grabbing his arm and giving it a yank.

So not Sam's lawyer. Probably not even his friend, not in the traditional sense. They were too familiar, too focused on one another and too interested in protecting one another. "You're not his lawyer. I'll bet you're not even a lawyer." Blair ignored how Jim rolled his eyes. Time to wow everyone. "I bet you're what, brothers maybe?"

Sam opened his mouth and snapped it shut in the next instant. Dean squared his shoulders and blinked at Blair. Then the two of them looked at each other.

"And, I'm betting you're older." He pointed one finger at Dean. "I'm right, aren't I?"

When neither one said anything, just watched him in stunned silence, Blair glanced at Jim, who was scrutinizing first one kid then the older one. Blair felt a little smug, okay a lot smug and let it show in his grin. Sam gave Dean a quick glance then nodded ever so slightly.

"Give us a minute, okay, please?" Blair shoved against Jim's chest, guiding him to the door. "One minute, I promise. And no one is being arrested."

"Sandburg!" Jim literally sputtered, dug in his heels and refused to move.

Blair sighed. Why did this have to be so damn hard? "Jim, man, c'mon, trust me. One minute." He nodded at the door.

Nodding Jim turned and glared at the two young men, pointing at Dean. "Don't touch a thing." He let Blair drag him out the door and into the hall.

Once the door was closed, Blair turned to Jim and laughed softly. "You know for a guy who has super senses and is a cop you sure can be sort of thick and unobservant sometimes."

"That was a lucky guess."

"No, Jim, it wasn't. You didn't recognize a single thing they did or how they looked at one another. Well, maybe you wouldn't since you don't have that stuff aimed at you, you do the aiming."

"Huh? You believe that psychic crap?"

Blair shook his head. "Seriously, you can stand here and tell me you don't? If you can do," he twirled a few fingers close to Jim's head, "then why can't someone see in other ways? Maybe it's just another form of super sense. And honestly, you didn't see how that _lawyer_," Blair made quote signs in the air either side of his head, "is with the other kid? He's just like you are with me. Jim, man, this could be my life and I want to know what he knows or thinks he knows."

"Innocent people don't lie about their names or why they're somewhere."

"Agreed, but scared people might."

He could tell by the way Jim's eyes narrowed and he looked up and down the hall, not focusing on Blair for a few seconds, then rubbed his neck that he'd won out, for now. Jim nodded. "Okay, we'll play it your way for now."

"Thanks." Blair smiled, stepped around Jim and went back into his office, Jim half a step behind him. "Sit, please?" he asked Sam. Pulling out a chair he sat and motioned for Sam to do the same.

Glancing at Dean, Sam sat on the edge of the chair.

"Let's start with your name, Sam what? I know the other guy you were with, he was in one of my classes, so I can always get it from him, but getting it from you would look way better."

"You believe me?" Sam asked quietly. When Blair nodded, Sam's gaze flicked to Dean again getting a very small, barely seen nod. "Winchester, Sam Winchester."

"Thanks. I believe you believe you saw something and I believe it's sometimes possible to see and know things maybe others can't. You said you saw me floating in the fountain, dead. I don't want to die and I sure don't want to end up floating in that water," Blair paused, biting back the word _again_. "So, tell me, Sam Winchester, what do you know, what did you see?"


	3. Chapter 3

Blair held his pen between thumb and forefinger, tapping it absently against his desktop. Stretching he peered over his computer monitor, taking a casual look around at the detective bullpen. No one was paying attention to him. Easing out of the chair and moving around his desk to the one facing his—Jim's desk—he nonchalantly pushed the papers on Jim's desk around with two fingers.

Jim's parting shot to the brothers of "don't leave town or else," wasn't exactly going to encourage them to offer whatever knowledge they might have, and after what Sam Winchester especially had told them, Blair was convinced the two young men had a lot to offer.

The problem was Dean Winchester and Jim Ellison had spent too much time snarling and circling each other like a couple of rabid—Blair didn't even know what, dragons maybe? Certainly no actual animal currently inhabiting the planet Blair could think of.

Blair's gaze dropped to the papers on the desk. What he was looking for wasn't the top page, or even the second one in the stack of newly printed and delivered warrants, criminal records and coroner reports. He slipped the one with the name _Dean_ _Winchester_ printed along the top from the stack, gave it a cursory read over, folded it and stuck it in his jeans pocket.

He'd beg forgiveness later if needed, which hopefully things wouldn't come to that.

The city services-wide computer upgrade had been a pain in Blair's ass. He and a few others adapted quite well to the massive changes, others not so much. Jim was in the not so much category. It was fair to bet that Jim hadn't turned his own department computer on in a good three weeks. The start button would probably decay and fall off if he tried.

Jim claimed it was Blair's part of the partnership, coaxing what they needed out of the persnickety systems. Blair had to admit, Simon and Jim were right when they said the city got taken and spent too much on a computer system so many had a difficult time learning.

Today Blair was hopping up and down and cheering on the inside. Jim ordered reports he needed from one of the clerks and the hard copies were delivered to his desk. Stealing Dean's legal record wasn't Blair's first choice, but it would buy him some time.

He needed to talk to the Winchesters and he needed to do it alone, they—Dean—was too threatened by Jim's presence.

Stage one of his plan accomplished, Blair moved onto stage two…getting out of the police station alone. He'd already laid the ground work, having brought Jim five large cups of coffee in quick succession since they'd arrived. He had number six sitting on his desk, within easy reach, waiting.

Jim was in Simon's office; Blair needed to go join them since they were likely discussing the body found in the university fountain. Jim turned and glanced out the office window, seeing Blair he waved.

Grabbing the coffee, Blair lifted it in a toast motion and tipped his chin at the snack cart. Jim smiled and shook his head, looking away long enough for Blair to snag yet another cup of coffee and a Danish. Resettling at his desk, he watched Jim amble from the office and cross the room, greeting a few others along the way.

Using his foot to nudge his chair away from the desk, Jim greeted Blair with a warm, "Hey, Chief."

"Hey." Blair slid the coffee cup at Jim.

Without really looking at it, Jim reached for the cup, pulling it to his lips he sipped as he rifled through the papers on his desk. "Is this everything?"

"Huh?" Blair looked up and plastered his best innocent look on his face.

"I ordered a hard copy of the Winchesters' record."

Blair shrugged. "Maybe there isn't one."

"Yeah, right," Jim snorted. "Did you see it?"

Leaning over his desk, Blair pretended to examine the contents of Jim's desk. "I don't see it there." No lie, no changes in body chemistry, hopefully no one—Jim—would notice anything amiss.

"Huh." Jim sipped more coffee. Apparently Sentinels didn't simply have super senses, they had uber super bladders. Blair would be floating at this point. Glancing at him, Jim asked, "Would you…"

"Yeah, sure, man, but you gotta learn to use this system someday."

"Maybe tomorrow." Jim set the coffee cup down and shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm going to—" Jim waved at the door and the general direction of the men's room. "Then I think I'd like to talk to the Winchesters again and take another look around the fountain."

"It's a plan." Blair smiled and play punched Jim's forearm. Using one foot he pushed his chair away from his desk and leaned back far enough to watch Jim's progress out the bullpen door and down the hall. He nearly fell over backwards and caught himself with only seconds to spare. Blair groaned when Jim stopped along the way and took a long drink from the water fountain. "How the hell can he do that?" He mumbled to himself .

The minute Jim's rear disappeared through the men's room door Blair scribbled a note telling Jim he had an errand to run and he'd meet Jim at the university and tossed it on Jim's desk. A few seconds later he was up and bolting to the elevator.

* * *

"So, we're just packing up and leaving, just like that? Even though that cop said not to? What about our case?"

Dean gripped the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths. "What do you want, Sam, us ending up in jail? I didn't say anything about quitting our case. We need to get the hell off this campus. We can look into things from somewhere else in Cascade, it's a big city." He reached down and turned the key, cranking over the engine.

"On that note, I did find some stuff."

"Already?"

Sam grinned. "Yeah, I remembered some of the titles of books in Sandburg's office and started there."

Waving one hand in the air between them, Dean watched his brother expectantly. Sam twisted around and grabbed his computer bag from the backseat and spent a few minutes rifling through it.

"There is something called a sentinel, it's basically a person who has super senses, nothing supernatural, not in our sense anyway. These sentinels are people, but with these special abilities. The sentinel has an area, a territory I guess you'd call it and they guard that area. One source stated that a protected area wouldn't have a lot of other, more traditional types of supernatural activity."

"So, a sentinel guards against hauntings, demons, unnatural creatures?"

"Not specifically. They're more like general guardians. Originated in Central America, but there are reports from all over the world. They're pretty scattered, in a jungle they'd safeguard a village and the land around it."

Dean tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. "So, maybe there is one here?"

"Maybe. That cop, Sandburg, he's also an anthropology professor at Rainier. His name was on a few of the articles I read, apparently it's what he did his thesis on. Before he was an official cop he," Sam lifted his hands and made quote signs in the air. "Consulted for the Cascade police department in general and Jim Ellison in particular."

"Why?" Dean shifted the car into gear and eased out of the parking space in front of the motel. A light gray Mustang pulled in and parked across the parking lot, catching Dean's eye. He turned his head to get a better look.

Sam shook his head and smiled, a good smile, the kind that made his eyes sparkle and those silly dents pop out. Not that Dean ever noticed. "You're worse with old cars than you are with girls."

"Dude, that car is as old as this one." Dean winced when the car sputtered and backfired. "Needs some TLC though." Leaning forward, he squinted when someone climbed from the car and pushed to a run almost immediately, heading in their direction. "Aw, crap." Gunning the Impala's engine, he headed for the street.

"Dean! Wait, it's—"

"I _know_ who it is. He arrested you."

"No, that's Sandburg, he _didn't_ arrest me."

Sandburg changed direction, stretching to a full run and veered into the path of the oncoming Impala.

Waving him away, Dean growled out, "Damn fool jackass, I'll run you down if you don't move."

"Hey! Guys! Stop!" Sandburg was standing his ground, arms waving above his head.

Sam grabbed Dean's arm, fist closing down on the material of his jacket. "Dean, man, stop! We're trying to keep him alive, not kill him ourselves, remember?"

Hitting the brakes right before he ran the detective over, Dean jerked the gear shift up into park and yelled when Sandburg's hands hit palm down against the hood of the car. "Watch the finish!"

Pulling his hands away as if he were singed, Sandburg straightened and looked the car up and down. "Whoa, man, _nice_ car."

Sam groaned and shook his head.

Grinning, Dean smacked his brother's arm then cut the engine. "I'll give him one extra point for that." Rolling down the window he stuck his head out. "Got a death wish? This car could squash you. Might want to think about taking better care of yours."

Blair glanced back at his car. "Yeah, maintenance is a bitch. Not as bad as a Corsair I had years ago, though."

"Did you come here to reminisce about your rides?" Dean rested one elbow on the window frame and propped his chin in his hand.

"No. I just want to ask you two some questions. That's it, I promise."

Glancing over at Sam, Dean shrugged and nodded. He pushed open the car door and got out, taking a good look around.

"I'm alone," Sandburg said before Dean could ask the question. "Just want to talk, that's it, really. I'm only asking for five minutes of your time."

Sam walked to Dean's side of the car and leaned his hip against the back passenger door. Dean crossed both arms over his chest, glanced back at his brother then turned to Sandburg and nodded. Making a show of extending one arm, turning it so he could see his watch and re-crossing his arms he said, "Five minutes, clock is ticking."

When Sandburg paced closer and started walking around Dean, giving him a clear shot at Sam, Dean shifted his weight so he was still between the two. Sandburg stopped, ran one hand over his face and gave him a slight smile.

"Okay, I get it. Look, Sam, in my office you said you saw a man floating in the fountain. You nearly passed out when you saw me at first. It was me, wasn't it, that you saw?"

"Yes," Sam said in a steady, soft voice.

"But there's more, isn't there?"

"What do you know about someone found in the same fountain seven years ago? Some people have told us they've seen a tall, blonde woman near the fountain, there one minute, gone the next. Any connection?" Dean knew he'd hit pay dirt when color dropped from Sandburg's face.

"I thought I was supposed to ask the questions," Sandburg countered.

"You asked, Sam answered, now it's our turn." Dean rocked on his heels and put a placating smile on his face.

"Okay, fair enough. It was me seven years ago in the fountain. Obviously I didn't die. My turn, why is it you're supposed to be dead?" He pointed at Dean. Behind him Sam sucked in his breath.

"You probably wouldn't believe me," Dean said.

"I believed your brother is psychic, try me."

Watching him, Dean decided Sandburg was being honest with him and was open to hearing what he had to say. "There was a creature, a thing, it was able to transform itself to look just like me. I killed it, but the cops weren't going to believe it wasn't me. So I let them think I was dead."

Sandburg's face lit up, which surprised Dean and from the way Sam shifted behind him he could tell it threw Sam for a loop too. "A…ah…" he rubbed at his forehead a few times, looking like he was searching for a memory. "Skinwalker! Shapeshifter."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Shapeshifter, actually."

"You've seen one?" Sandburg seemed more interested in what they had to say making Dean feel like he was a specimen being studied.

"We have. It's sort of what Sammy and I do, find these things."

"You believe us?" Sam asked, straightening and stepping up to Dean's side.

"Yea—yes. Literature from all sorts of cultures is full of stories about beings that take on the face of others. I mean there're legends from Native North American Indians, tribes in Central and South America, Africa, some places in Europe and the Orient."

Dean held up one hand, stopping him. "We know."

"My turn," Sam said. "Are you a sentinel?"

Sandburg stepped back a pace and shook his head. The shock on his face covered up, but not fast enough. "No."

"So, it's your large, angry buddy?" Dean ventured.

"How—"

That answered their question and made Dean laugh. "Didn't we just establish it's what Sam and I do, to know about...unusual stuff? Besides you left Sam here alone in a room full of your books for three minutes."

A pickup truck pulled in, not stopping until it was a few feet from Sandburg. The horn honked once before the door was flung open and Sandburg's partner dropped to the ground.

"How did you find me?" Sandburg blurted out.

Ellison rolled his eyes and tapped his chest with two fingers. "De—tec—tive. Remember? It's my job, one _I_ taught _you_."

Sandburg opened his mouth, but Sam's voice came out. "You heard what I said at the fountain. I barely heard what I said, so how did you hear me from so far away?"

The way Ellison glared at Sam made Dean shove away from his resting place against the car and step forward a half pace in front of his brother. "That's a really good question. I find Cascade a very interesting place. No evidence of any supernatural activity."

"And I care why?" Ellison's gaze shifted from Sam to Dean, who met it steadily.

Dean shrugged. "Nothing but an interesting little fact. Oh and Sam dug up a crap load of information on something called a sentinel. See, it's sort of what we do, dig up information on the unusual and obscure."

Sandburg nudged Ellison's arm with his elbow. "Apparently leaving them alone in my office full of books was a bad idea." He glanced up at Ellison then down at the ground.

"What exactly are you getting at?" Ellison looked from one to the other.

Dean shrugged. "Nothing, really. My kid brother here is a psychic and had nothing to do with the girl's body swimming in that fountain and you're a…sentinel…better hearing, better eyesight?"

"What would make you think something like that even exists?" Ellison shot back.

"The part where you could hear what I said when I practically couldn't," Sam repeated.

"I saw the whole thing. I was sitting in my car and had a clear view of where Sam was standing and where you both were. No way you heard that, unless you've got some ability to hear better," Dean said, making sure to keep his voice calm and even.

"So what, this is supposed to convince me you just saw my partner dead in a fountain in your head?" Ellison ground out.

"Maybe," Sandburg stepped in front of Ellison, looking from Sam to Dean before turning enough to focus on Ellison. "We can all simply agree there are things we can't explain and use the information we get, no matter where we get it from? We believe you, you believe us. Isn't the important part finding out who killed that girl now, oh and keeping me from being victim number two?" He looked around at them all before smacking Ellison's arm. "Jim, man, come on, trust me. They already figured it out, on their own. I think we should listen to them. _I_ believe them."

"One wrong move and—"

Sam cut Ellison off before he could finish. "Yeah, we know. We'll end up in a jail cell never to see the light of day again."

Ellison's phone chimed, as he dug it out of his pocket he pointed a finger at them. "Don't move." Then into the phone, "Ellison." He frowned, blinked a few times, his breath skipping. "What? When? He _what_? They said _what_?" He closed the phone and replaced it, gaze settling on Sandburg. "They…um…that was Banks, there's been…"

"Jim?"

"Another body was reported in the fountain. This time a few witnesses saw someone, a tall, blonde woman."

"There one minute, gone the next, just like the body wasn't floating one minute and a dead person there the next?" Sam asked.

Ellison nodded.

"There's more, isn't there?" Sandburg gripped his partner's forearm for a few beats, tugging insistently.

"The victim was a man, about your build, hair color, so on. But…he…they got an ID off him and his birthday is the same as yours, but seven years younger."

Sandburg swallowed thickly and ran one hand through his hair. "It was seven years ago today, too."

"Look, guys, believe us or not." Dean stepped forward and looked from one to the other. "But, you're dealing with something not normal here. Not normal is something we know a lot about. Now," he settled his gaze on Ellison, recognizing at once he was as close to his partner and the guy had as much meaning to Ellison as Sam did to Dean. "Before your friend here ends up a dead floater, let us do what we do and help you guys out. Your killer isn't human and probably not even alive."

"We can always throw them in jail later," Sandburg pointed out.

His statement didn't ease Dean's concerns about them any, but when Ellison nodded his consent, Dean figured at least they could keep Sandburg alive _and_ get out of town when this was all over.

"We gotta go, c'mon Chief." Ellison started for his truck, stopping when he had his hand on the door handle and pointed at Dean and Sam. "Stay out of the way and don't touch anything. I can't let you onto the crime scene."

"That's okay, what we mainly need to do is talk to people there." Sam was already heading around to the other side of the Impala.

Dean slid into the car and started her up, putting her in gear as soon as Sam's door was closed. "I hope working with them isn't a bad idea."

"Not like we have a choice right now."

It was the truth and Dean knew it.

* * *

Jim's first instinct was to keep Blair as far from the fountain, the campus and the crime scene as humanly possible. He couldn't do that, however. There was no way to justify it to Blair and even less of a chance of convincing him to let Jim handle this alone. He didn't need super senses to see the little information Jim'd gotten over the phone completely and utterly freaked Blair out.

Blair sat quietly in the passenger seat of Jim's truck as he guided the vehicle through the city to the university. The thought banged around in Jim's head. Blair was quiet. _Quiet_. The kid was never quiet. He never shut up. All he ever did was talk. Blair talked while they ate, while they worked, he talked in his sleep, Jim heard him yakking away to himself in the shower and he probably even talked through sex.

The fact that Blair sat staring out the window, not asking questions, posing theories or regaling Jim with some anthropological correlation to the Winchester brothers and this case was making Jim uneasy.

Maybe he simply needed a nudge. "Any ideas, Chief?"

Blair shook his head no.

Jim wanted to grab his arm and shake him until he got something, anything, some words out of Blair. He didn't, however. Instead he cut around some traffic and onto a side street, taking shortcuts to get to the campus fountain.

When they arrived it wasn't much different than it'd been seven years ago, or a day ago, other than who the victim was. Just as they pulled up, the man was being loaded into a waiting ambulance. A quick glance over at Blair and Jim climbed from the truck, heading to the ambulance. He heard how Blair's breathing and footsteps faltered as the distance between them and the body narrowed and closed completely.

He nodded to one of the medics, hoping Blair would hang back while he took a look, but no such luck. Jim gazed down at a face that could have easily been Blair from a distance. The same kinked hair, sideburns and even dead, Jim could see his complexion was extremely similar to Blair's. The young man even wore clothing Blair would have worn.

The way Blair tried covering his uneven and harsh breathing let Jim know his partner must have felt as if he were looking at a mirror image of himself. It scared Jim, so he could only imagine the impact this was having on Blair.

"I think we've seen enough," Jim said to the medic, nodding. Taking one step back, he turned far enough to press two fingers to Blair's bicep and guide him away from the ambulance and body.

"Jim, we need to check this out and I want to—"

"Yeah, well I don't. The coroner will get pictures and there isn't anything on the body we can use."

"How do you know?"

Jim huffed a sigh, crossed both arms across his chest and cocked his head to one side. "Really?" Taking a step toward the fountain, he made sure to push against Blair, forcing him to step even farther from the ambulance. "Let's take a closer look at the fountain." He made sure to leave no room for argument and was doubly worried when he didn't get one. Blair simply nodded, shoved his fists in his pockets and trailed along with him.

Scouting the area revealed no real clues until Jim stepped along the walkway and in the center of a direct line from the Anthro building and the fountain. He was at once assaulted with a tingling and the odd scent of ozone. "You smell that, Sandburg?"

"Smell what?"

"Ah, like a copy machine."

"Ozone?" Blair asked. "What else is there? It's this spot, concentrate on this spot?"

Jim held up one hand for silence and nodded. Turning a slow circle he was able to pinpoint where the odd odor was concentrated. Pointing to the ground, he looked at Blair. "Right here. This is the only spot." Stepping away a few paces then back he took another look around the area, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. "It's colder in this spot too. Two steps either way and normal temperature and no weird smell."

Turning his attention to the ground, Jim saw small threads of blue and black mixed in with the green grass. Kneeling, he carefully plucked them up and turned them over in his palm. "These match the clothes our floater is wearing." They also matched a shirt Blair often wore.

Blair wasn't watching him, and likely not paying attention to what he'd said, but was looking at the people milling around on the other side of the fountain. Jim followed his line of sight, but didn't see anyone unusual, other than the two Winchester brothers. When Blair jerked his chin and waved at them Jim couldn't stifle his groan. If Blair heard him, he ignored it.

Dean and Sam wandered in their direction, stopping a few times to talk to other people milling about. Jim saw Sam stuff a small notebook in his jacket pocket as they came closer.

"Same story," Sam said. "A few of those people," he motioned backward with one hand, "saw a tall, blonde woman near the fountain. They'd blink and she'd be gone. We've heard that same story since we got here, people were talking about it in a coffee shop yesterday morning, too. As for the body, it just appeared in the water. No one we talked to saw anything even though it's bright and sunny. Not even a splash was heard."

"What does ozone mean?" Blair blurted out.

Dean immediately turned one way and Sam another, visually scanning the area.

"What are you looking for?" Jim asked, at once on alert, but for what he wasn't sure.

"Someone that shouldn't be here," Dean grumbled and turned back to them. "I don't smell anything."

"I do," Jim countered. Dean gave him an odd look, but didn't argue.

"What else was there? Any temperature change or the water is different, anything?" Sam asked, making Jim smile a bit, he sounded so much like Blair and asked the same questions.

"There is one spot, right here," Jim extended his arm and waved one finger in a circle.

Dean stepped over the ground he'd indicated and away from it a few times, looked at Sam and shook his head ever so slightly. "Does anyone here look out of place?"

Jim shook his head.

"Spirits leave a trail same as a bank robber. You just have to know how to look for it. Temperature changes, different smells and sometimes a slight glow. Inside a lot of time electric devices are affected, they won't work properly or at all. Radios play static," Sam explained.

"But, we're outside in the open, so the trail will be harder to follow?" Blair asked.

Jim held up one hand, trying to put an end to this conversation. "You honestly want me to believe this is some sort of ghost?"

"You can believe what you want, pal. That isn't going to change the facts or the fact your friend here might be in danger if you don't expand your thinking," Dean snapped.

Jim really didn't like that guy. This was the second time he'd brought Blair into a conversation about a spirit and implied said spirit might be a danger to him.

"Look," Sam began, tapping Jim's arm and drawing his attention from his brother. "You said this victim is exactly seven years younger than Mr. Sandburg, and it's been seven years to the day he almost died in that fountain. You both get nervous whenever we mention a tall, blonde woman and you can't deny there is something very odd going on here."

"He's right, Jim," Blair said quietly. "They've been right about everything so far."

"And you believe this?" Jim still wasn't convinced.

"I believe we should keep an open mind."

"You need to tell us about this blonde woman," Dean said.

Jim looked at Blair, meeting his gaze. When Blair nodded, Jim realized he was outnumbered and in truth if it was going to help him get to the bottom of this and keep Blair safe and sane, he could work with almost anyone. As Blair had wisely pointed out, he could always arrest Dean and Sam Winchester later.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean paced around the fountain then closer to it, Blair watched as Sam tensed. He shifted his weight nervously, lips pressing to a thin line as he stuffed his fists into his jacket pocket. Using his toe, Dean scuffed it along the base of the fountain, and through the grass. When he'd made a complete circuit of the fountain he stood less than half a foot from its edge and looked at Jim for a few seconds before his intense gaze settled on Blair.

It was unsettling.

"So," Dean began, looking away from them and to the buildings across from the fountain. "We need to know who this blonde woman is, she's right in the middle of this mess. Any clues how we can ID her?"

Blair had the distinct feeling the older Winchester brother already knew he and Jim were well aware of whom the woman was and he was simply asking to force them to admit their knowledge.

"Maybe if we knew more about her we could come up with a name," Jim said. It was pretty obvious to Blair his partner had the same person on his mind as Blair.

"Yeah, well, you're the ones who need to come up with the name," Dean pressed.

Blair sighed and groaned inwardly, this would be a lot easier if these two didn't feel the need to antagonize each other with every word. They were saved from an all-out confrontation when Sam hissed in a breath that shrieked pain. The smartass expression dropped off Dean's face as did some of his color. He shoved away from the fountain and strode toward his brother. "Sam."

Sam rubbed at his eyes then forehead with forefinger and thumb. He stumbled backwards a few steps as if the world was tilting away from his feet. Looking at him made Blair hurt, pain centered on Sam's head literally radiated off him. Within the span of a few seconds the kid went from looking fairly normal and healthy to like he'd died last week and no one had bothered to send his body the memo yet.

Jim seemed to completely forget about arguing with Dean and stared at Sam. "Are you okay?"

"Hey, man, what's wrong?" Blair asked at almost the same time Jim spoke.

Dean was at his brother's side, one arm around him and tugging him in closer to take some of his weight, mumbling, "Shit, Sammy, not a good time, dude."

"He's done this before?" Jim was two steps behind Dean. When he reached out and tried to help Dean support Sam he was given a vicious enough glare from Dean that he backed off. That more than a little bit amazed Blair. Jim never backed down from anyone. Then again Jim probably never really came across someone who was so much like he was, sentinel senses aside.

"You wanted to know how he saw things," Dean snapped and sidestepped, forcing Sam farther from them.

Blair pointed to the Anthro building. "Your brother shouldn't be out here. My office is up there, we can—"

"Yeah, I remember." Dean's face softened and he drew in a deep breath when Sam's shoulders relaxed and he tried to stand straighter. "Thanks." He didn't take as much offense to Blair when he got on the other side of Sam and took his arm, helping to steer him to the building. Jim ran ahead and got the door open.

Fortunately classes were still in session, so the halls were mostly empty. They managed to get the big kid up the stairs and into Blair's office with a minimum of attention drawn to them. By the time Sam was settled in a chair some of his color was back, his eyes were clearer and Dean didn't look as freaked out as he had a few minutes before.

When Blair handed Sam a glass of water, he glanced up and offered him a small smile. "Thanks."

"He…uh…gets these visions sometimes. That headache goes along with them when they happen," Dean offered. A hand on Sam's shoulder drew Sam's attention to Dean. "What did you see?"

"This is nuts," Jim snapped.

"It's not so unbelievable." Blair grabbed Jim's arm, stopping him from getting closer to the Winchesters. "Think of it as a sensory overload. The only difference is Sam's heightened sense is different."

"There was," Sam's voice was soft, barely above a whisper and trembled slightly. He looked up at Blair, sat straighter in the chair and finished off the water. "The fountain and you and that tall blonde woman. She held you face down in the water until you stopped struggling. She had on a suit, um…really nice, dark, blue or black maybe dark gray. And a necklace." His fingers fluttered to his throat and moved down to his chest before dropping back to his lap. "It was silver and had a couple strands hanging off the part around her neck."

Blair suppressed a shiver as a mental image formed of Alex Barnes when she'd come to his office, this office, the first time. He remembered how he'd thought her necklace was unusual and matched Sam's description perfectly.

Sam turned to Dean, focused on him and continued. "She had blonde hair, came to just above her shoulders and sort of reminded me of that Borg chick on Star Trek."

"Movie or series?"

"Series," Sam said immediately.

"Voyager wasn't nearly as cool as the other ones." Dean's fingers worked Sam's shoulder a few times before he let go and patted Sam's back. He took a deep breath and looked at Blair and Jim. "Throw us a bone here, guys."

"There was a woman by the name of Alex Barnes," Jim started carefully, crossing his arms over his chest. "Seven years ago we had a run in with her."

"I'm thinking she's back for round two," Dean said.

Blair crossed the office to his filing cabinet, opening it he pulled out a large envelope. Without looking at Jim, he handed it to Sam. "Here's what little information I had on her. There should be a picture of her in there, see if that's who you saw."

Jim's jaw went white and a muscle along one side jumped. Blair tried not to notice the harsh look sent his way, they'd talk later that was for sure. He wasn't exactly looking forward to that particular discussion.

With shaking fingers Sam opened the envelope and pulled out the pictures Blair had kept for his research. He shuffled through them with Dean leaning over his shoulder looking.

"Is that her?" Dean asked, pointing at the photos.

Sam nodded. "This is Alex Barnes?"

"Yes," Blair said, reaching for the envelope.

Fingers tightening on the paper, Sam wouldn't let go, but pulled other photos from inside. "What are these?" He twisted around to face the table, spreading the photos across it. "I recognize…these seem so familiar."

"Did you see paintings in your vision?" Dean was moving them around with one finger.

"No, but I saw…" Sam's voice trailed off when Dean tapped on one. Sam leaned forward and squinted then turned and looked around at them. "This one, Dean, does it look familiar?"

"Jeff's apartment."

"I didn't start having visions of that fountain until I touched that painting in Jeff's apartment."

Jim moved forward to stand beside Dean, looking at the pictures. "You saw one of these in your friend's apartment?"

"Yeah," Sam said, finger jabbing at one of the photos. "This one. He said he bought it at an auction of some kind."

"Things from her condo must have been sold off after she died," Blair said to Jim.

"She's dead?" Dean asked. "Do you know where she's buried?"

"She died about a year ago and was cremated. Why?" Jim now seemed more interested in getting the pieces put into place than in challenging the Winchesters.

"So she must be tied to her paintings." Dean took the photos and stuffed them all back into the envelope. He was talking to Sam; it was as if Jim and Blair weren't there. "We need to collect anything that she can still be attached to and burn it."

"Artwork is very personal to the artist, it makes sense she might still be connected to her paintings." Sam's voice came out faster and stronger.

"I'll find out what auction house dealt with Alex's paintings, shouldn't take more than a few hours once we have a list of where they went to collect them." Jim pulled out his phone and moved to the other side of the office, speaking into it in a low voice. Blair knew he was calling the station and having someone look up the information they needed. "Okay, got it, thanks." Jim covered the distance to Blair's desk and grabbed a piece of paper and pen, scribbling something down. He folded it and put it in his jeans pocket.

An hour later they had a list of who'd bought the paintings. Fortunately most of them were on or near the campus. Despite protests from both Dean and Jim, they split up, each taking addresses off the list. Blair was the first one to complete his task, and was dragging them up to his office. He'd spent the time collecting the paintings trying to think of a place to burn a sizeable stack of paintings and sketches. One possibility came to mind and he hoped it would be sufficient.

Blair wasn't exactly sure he believed what the Winchesters had said about Alex's spirit being tied to her art, but he was determined to keep an open mind. There were stranger things he'd seen and the two brothers certainly were very convinced this was a critical plan of action. They believed in ghosts and the fact Sam had so accurately described not only Alex, but Alex on the day Blair had first met her, was pretty darn persuasive.

"I've got all mine." Sam had to turn sideways to get himself and the paintings he had stuffed under one arm through the door. He piled his on top of Blair's on the conference table in the middle of the office.

"Have you heard from your brother?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, he's on his way back, should be here in fifteen minutes or so. The one my friend bought is still in his apartment, I'm going to go grab it. We're going to need somewhere we can burn this stuff and not set off a dozen alarms, any ideas?"

"I was just thinking about that. There might be a place. One of the older buildings has a big garbage incinerator, I don't know if it still works or not, but would that do?"

"Perfect." Sam grinned. "Even if it doesn't work we can light these up in it and not worry about burning down the college." He headed toward the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"I'll take these and check out the incinerator." Blair grabbed a pad of paper and pen off his desk, writing fast and ripping the paper off, holding it out to Sam. "Here's the address and directions. Meet me there then we can haul the rest of Alex's art over when Jim and Dean get the rest." Blair grabbed his phone, keys, the stack of artwork and followed Sam out of the office and down the steps. At the building entrance he veered off in one direction, Sam taking the opposite, breaking into a jog when he hit the sidewalk.

Sam bee-lined to Jeff's apartment building and took the stairs to his floor three at a time. Jeff was working now, b

* * *

ut Sam wasn't sure how much time he'd have. Pulling his lock picks out, he made short work of the cheap lock on the apartment door, knocking as he opened it and slipped inside. No one answered his knock or when he called out Jeff's name.

Crossing the main room, Sam snatched the painting off the wall, shoved it under his arm and was back out of the apartment, down the steps and heading back to Blair's office in no time. No one paid attention to him.

As he passed by the fountain, movement near it caught his attention. Sam stopped and looked at the water, nothing unusual was in it, yet he couldn't shed the feeling something was around the side, just out of his line of sight. Shaking off the odd feeling and trying to ignore how the hair along the back of his neck rose, how his skin tingled, he took a few more steps around the fountain.

He needed to get back to the Anthro building, but he needed to see what was lurking around the fountain. Keeping his distance he walked a few more steps and stopped, shifting the painting to his left side. When movement almost out of his periphery made him turn around, Sam drew himself straighter and breathed out, "What the hell?"

A cat the size of a motorcycle faced him. Pale yellow eyes stared straight into his from a straw colored face with black spots. It blinked at him; nothing else moved other than the very end of its tail that twitched side to side a few times. Sam blinked back. His brain whirled, too big for ocelot or a Bengal cat? Leopard, jaguar? He had no idea. One spotted cat looked the same as the next to him.

Whatever it was, it was a damn big cat, solid muscle and Sam estimated it to weigh at least as much as he did, scratch that, it probably weighed more. A lot more. This wasn't anyone's lost house cat. Cold fear slithered around his gut and pinged off his spine, sending a shiver through him. He took a half step toward the Anthro building, wondering if he could out run what certainly looked like some sort of jungle cat.

Sidestepping with him, long, white whiskers flinched up when the cat's lips pulled up in a silent snarl. The straight, white, very pointed teeth impressed Sam into freezing in his tracks. By the way the feline's ears flicked back and forth Sam had the distinct impression the thing could hear his heart hammering in his chest. He certainly knew how those gazelles on National Geographic must have felt when faced with similar predators.

Sam was fast, but there was no way he was as fast as a gazelle.

Licking dry lips with an equally dry tongue, Sam took a step back and glanced around. The area was deserted other than he and an animal that shouldn't be roaming around loose in Cascade or any other city.

The cat stepped forward, this time a low rumble vibrated through the air from its throat.

When Sam's cell phone chimed the cat's tail lashed side to side a few times. Holding out one hand, Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, just answering the phone, don't get all hungry." He carefully took his phone from his pocket, nearly passing out with relief when he saw Dean's name on the screen. Trying not to shake he flipped open the phone and whispered, "Dean."

"_Sammy, what's wrong? Where the hell are you_?"

"Shut…Up. Don't scare it." Oh yeah, who was he kidding? As if this thing would be afraid of a voice on a tiny cell phone.

"_Huh? Are you high? What are you_—?"

"Dean," Sam hissed into the phone then held his breath when the cat took another step. "Shut up and listen. There's a…a…I don't know, some kind of jungle cat, but it's the biggest freaking cat I've ever seen. It's yellow with black spots and it's _huge_."

"_What_?"

"It's—oh _crap_!"

The sight would have been amazing and awe inspiring had it not been coming straight at him. Going from zero to what looked to be warp drive in no time the cat gathered its haunches and leapt at him. Sam remembered not to drop the painting as he spun on his heels and leapt into his own sprint.

He was right; he wasn't faster than a gazelle. Cold hit him a split second before something else pounded against his back and he was flattened to the ground. He waited for the sensation of teeth digging into his neck, but he never felt anything not even when the world went black.

* * *

Dean pulled his phone away from his face and stared at it, had he heard correctly? Sam was facing off some sort of wild cat? That couldn't be right.

He tucked the paintings he'd collected tighter to his side and broke into a run, not stopping until he was bursting through the door of Sandburg's office, dropping the paintings in a pile on the round conference table in the middle of the room. He'd no sooner pulled out his phone and tried Sam's number again when Ellison came through the door and deposited the final few paintings onto the pile.

"Where's Blair?" Ellison asked at once.

"No one was here when I got here. You got a wildlife problem here?"

"Huh?"

"My brother, he just called me and said something about a giant, spotted cat coming after him. That's when the phone went dead. I was going to go look for him, but I'm not sure where he was when he called."

"A jaguar?"

"I don't know," Dean snapped. "How the hell should I know or how would Sam know? He said a huge wildcat with spots."

"We have to find your brother."

"No shit." Dean brushed by Ellison. He stopped at the door, pulled his handgun out and checked the load, replacing it quickly. "I've got a permit," he mumbled before the question was asked. If this cop decided to give him a hard time and it meant Sam being stuck somewhere then the guy was going to find out how hard Dean could hit and exactly how good his aim was.

"Blair called me a few minutes ago, said he thought of a building on campus that had an incinerator and Sam went to his friend's apartment to get the last painting."

Ellison's sudden change in attitude surprised Dean, but he wasn't going to question it just now, not with his kid brother's life on the line.

"That's a good place to start."

"No," Ellison said, stopping him by crossing the room in a few strides and grabbing Dean's arm. "I think I know what building Blair was thinking of. If Sam had the last painting, and I'm guessing if he saw Alex's jaguar then we need to go there."

"Alex had a jaguar? As in the cat, not the car?"

"No. Listen, you asked me to trust you, now I'm doing the same thing. The jaguar is a spirit guide thing and we don't have time for me to explain now. It's the only logical place to look, if that's where the other paintings are. You said yourself she'd be attached to her art."

Dean nodded and held the door open, following close on Ellison's heels and pulling the door shut behind him. The Impala was closer than Ellison's truck, so they took that. Ellison pointed out directions as Dean drove. It was near the edge of campus, an obviously older building, probably one of the original ones built. The building was a few stories, brick and nondescript. Dean hesitated a few seconds at the back of the Impala, managing to get a sawed off loaded with rock salt out and stuffed into a duffel with a few other necessities while Ellison scouted around the building looking for a way inside.

When Ellison gave his duffel an odd and pointed look Dean shrugged. "You didn't expect me to go in unprepared. Just because you don't believe in this crap doesn't mean I don't. Not all weapons are guns and knives. You can arrest me after I know my brother is safe."

"Fair enough," Ellison said and yanked on the closest door. It swung open easily. Dean figured it wasn't against the law to go into an unlocked building and apparently Ellison agreed. Pulling out his handgun and holding it low and at the ready he strode through.

They spent a few minutes searching out a way to the basement, where the incinerator would likely be located. A quick try of the light switched proved there was no power to the building, which didn't surprise Dean in the least. He took two flashlights from his duffel, holding one out like an olive branch to Ellison.

Dean didn't even try to hide his shock when Ellison waved off the flashlight. "I can see fine."

"Whatever." Dean clicked the light on and shoved the other back into his duffel.

The building was empty and their footfalls echoed off the walls as they raced down stairs that Dean hoped would not only lead to the basement and incinerator but clues to his brother's whereabouts as well. As soon as Dean hit the bottom floor and rounded the turn from the steps he saw a familiar lump in the middle of the space that was empty other than the incinerator along the far wall.

Breaking into a run, Dean called, "Shit, Sam!"

Jumping over Sam's form and dropping at once to his knees, Dean let everything in his hands slide to the floor. Grabbing Sam's shoulders he gently turned him over, nearly dizzy with relief when Sam sucked in a quick, panicked breath and jerked away from him.

"Hey, Sammy, easy, it's me."

Sam blinked at him and eased his arms under him, pushing off the floor. "Dean?"

"Yeah, me, Dean." Dean had to remember to take long, slower breaths to calm himself. Ellison pointed to the far end of the basement. Dean understood, he was going to look for Blair and check the rest of the area. Nodding, Dean turned his attention back to Sam. "What happened?"

Sam was curled around the painting that had been in Jeff's apartment and shoved away from it as he rolled to his butt, leaning on Dean's hands for better balance as he did so. "I was near the fountain, going back with this painting to wait for you and…" His voice trailed off as he rubbed at his forehead a few times. "You're not going to believe this, but there was a big cat, like a leopard or something."

"Jaguar?" Ellison's voice behind them made both he and Sam start. The man hadn't made a sound moving around the basement and it was more than a little bit creepy. People shouldn't do that Dean decided. At least not people who weren't hunters and weren't Dean's little brother.

Looking up, Sam shrugged. "I—I don't know. Maybe. Yeah, I guess. I'm not exactly a wild cat expert. It was big, dark yellow with black spots and a damn lot of long, pointed teeth. It chased me and the last thing I remember was being hit in the back and wondering if it was going to hurt when it chewed my neck apart." He scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers of one hand wrapping around Dean's forearm. "And right before it hit me the air got cold, _really_ cold. I woke up here seeing Blair in the fountain. That same wildcat was standing on his back."

Ellison sucking in a breath had them both looking up at him. Dean stood up and took his arm, steadying him. "Hey, you okay? No pun intended, but you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I've got to find Blair. He's in a lot of danger," Ellison said.

Dean nodded, not sure what was going through Ellison's head, but he decided not to take the time to question it right now. "We can start with this building."

Reaching down, Dean grabbed Sam's arm and hoisted him to his feet giving him a critical once over. His brother had the usual sway and pale look he always had after a vision, but seemed otherwise unharmed. When Sam straightened and tugged his jacket into place, offering Dean a slight nod indicating he was able to navigate under his own steam, Dean let go.

"Sam, come with me, we'll search the first floor, Dean you check the second," Ellison said, giving Dean a look that plainly spoke, _go ahead, challenge me_.

So, Dean did. "Hey, wait a minute you can't—"

"Look, pal, I don't have time to argue. Your brother here keeps seeing my partner dead in a fountain. He's got some connection to all this and might help me find Blair."

"Dean, it'll be faster if we split up." Sam reached out and brushed his fingertips across Dean's arm for a split second. "He's right, it makes sense and maybe I can help him find his friend."

They were right and Dean knew it. Positions reversed he'd want the guy seeing things about Sam with him, so he couldn't blame Ellison for wanting the same. It was clear to Dean Sandburg was important to Ellison and the man would do anything to protect him. Something Dean certainly could relate to. Pointing at Sam, Dean arched an eyebrow and put on his best, _I'm the big brother and in charge_ look. "You call me every ten minutes."

"I will," Sam promised and bounced up the stairs three at a time after Ellison.

Of course Sam didn't call in ten minutes and of course Dean was going to kill Ellison if something had happened to his kid brother.


	5. Chapter 5

"Maybe we're wasting our time here and should go back to the fountain," Sam said, for the second time trying to suggest they needed to leave the building. Jim ignored him, it wasn't like he hadn't heard the kid loud and clear the first time. Sam was in close enough proximity to Jim that he didn't have as much trouble filtering out his sounds, it was the rest of the damn building that was giving him grief.

"I have to be sure he's not here. Keep looking."

The way the kid huffed and pushed one hand through his hair annoyed Jim far more than it should have. He was trying hard to believe all this and accept that this boy had some connection to Blair or Alex Barnes or both that he needed, but his inner pep talk wasn't working. Sam's constant chatter and questions as they searched the mostly empty rooms of the old building drove his annoyance level even higher and wore his patience thin.

"Why that fountain? What connection does it have to Alex?" Sam just kept right on talking. "Or does Blair have a connection to it?"

"What kind of connection?"

"I dunno, Alex was into art, did she design the fountain? Blair teaches at the university where the fountain is located, did he ever have anything to do with its care or construction? You said Alex died a year or so ago, but the first body didn't show up in the fountain until now, a whole year later, there has to be a reason."

"Why?" Jim wondered if Alex trying to kill—_killing_—Blair and leaving him in the fountain could be considered a connection. He tried again reaching out with his senses, but just as it had happened when he and Dean had first entered the building, something was muffling them. His head had that covered with a plastic bag sort of feel to, other than Sam he couldn't hear or smell anyone or anything else.

Maybe if he took Sam to the fountain and gave him a good few dunks, held him under just long enough the kid would _shut_ _up_.

Sam shrugged. Oblivious to Jim's inner turmoil, he chattered on, "That's just how it works. Spirits have motivations, like criminals. The key is to find that motivation."

"She had an affinity for water and didn't like Blair."

"Why not?" Sam pressed.

What Blair chose to disclose about the incident was up to him, not Jim, to explain. "You'd have to ask her."

"If she shows up I will." Sam turned and walked away, pushing a door open with two fingers and stepping partially through the door. "Most spirits have a reason, a catalyst for their actions." He stopped talking, thankfully, and turned away from the doorway. "When was that auction?" He'd started talking again.

"I don't know, a few weeks ago I think. The school has one a few times a year."

"Why the fountain?"

"When she attacked Blair that's where I found him, in the fountain." Jim pushed a string of very unpleasant memories away, not wanting to relive seeing his best friend floating, lifeless, in the water.

"How'd she get him there?" Sam asked.

Jim shrugged, "I have no idea and neither does Sandburg. He told me she came to his office, pulled a gun on him and that was the last thing he remembered until he was revived."

"So," Sam rubbed at the back of his head and moved farther away from Jim, heading to the next doorway. "For all this time no contact with her and you found out not too long ago she's been dead for around a year?"

"That's about it." Jim walked into a room across the hall from the one Sam stood in front of, checking it thoroughly all the while keeping a keen ear on Sam's movements.

"The first body was found in the fountain not too long after all her art was sold. The first two murders were warnings, and she's really after Blair, wants to finish what she started. Those murders were probably her way of drawing him out into the open, where she'd have more access to him. Spirits don't like unfinished business. Sometimes spirits are dormant for years—decades even—until something stirs them up."

"Something like an auction?"

"Yeah."

Jim listened to Sam move along, checking another room. Stopping in the middle of the room, he reached out with his hearing. The place was suddenly very quiet. "Which brings me to ask, I know how Blair and I got the paintings we collected. How did you and your brother get yours?" Now, when Jim was asking the questions the talkative kid clammed up. Lengthening his stride, Jim was back in the hall in a few seconds. The door to the room Sam had been checking was still open, swinging slightly on its hinges. "Winchester!"

His voice bounced between the walls. A second later the sound of footsteps reached him.

"What?" That was Dean's voice, not Sam's. "Where's Sam?"

"Did you find any sign of Blair?" Jim countered.

"No. Where's Sam? He was with you."

"He was here a minute ago." Jim cringed inwardly, it sounded lame.

"You _lost_ him?"

"No, I didn't _lose_ him. He left."

"He left to go where?" Dean snapped.

Jim pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know, I'm a bit preoccupied with finding Blair." The older Winchester kid looked him up and down. He wasn't half as talkative as his brother but he was twice as annoying. He was also as concerned for his brother's welfare as Jim was for Blair's. That gave Winchester a few points in his favor. "Your brother was asking me questions about the fountain and if Alex or Blair had a connection to it."

"There was nothing on the second floor and I got all the paintings we have here in the incinerator. I'll go back and get the ones I left in your buddy's office. One of us should keep an eye on that fountain. I think Sam is onto something, it's something Alex is attracted to, it's a ghost thing. Until we can get rid of her, we should make sure no one else gets hurt."

It was a tenuous and uneasy truce at best, but Jim recognized an olive branch when he saw one. If he blew Dean Winchester off there was the very real risk of Blair or Sam Winchester being in danger, possibly dying. "We can head back, I'll get the paintings, you watch the fountain and we'll find them."

* * *

Sam ran the few blocks through the university campus, heading for the fountain. He had a feeling he'd find something there.

He approached the fountain from one side, and saw Blair heading to the same destination from the opposite direction. "What happened to you?" Blair rushed up to him, obvious relief on his face.

"Something weird, even on my scale of weird. I was on the way back to your office and there was…" Sam stopped and scratched at the back of his neck. "It was—"

"What?"

Sam pulled a face because this was going to sound profoundly stupid. "I got chased by some kind of jungle cat."

"A jaguar?"

That's what Ellison had asked too, Sam offered the same answer. "Not sure, I guess. Big, yellow, really _big_ with black spots."

"Alex's spirit guide," Blair said and cracked a grin at the dubious look Sam no doubt had on his face. "Hey, man I bought your ghost story, so give me this one, okay?"

"So, you're saying this jaguar is really Alex's ghost?" Sam wasn't too sure he believed that, usually people appeared as themselves, not something else.

"I don't know, does that happen?"

Sam shook his head no. If so, this was something new. Sam didn't like new and surprising, it was difficult enough dealing with the old and known.

Blair sighed. "Some cultures believe everyone has a spirit guide and it appears to them in various forms. Sentinels have animals like panthers or jaguars, they represent guardianship."

"And you think Alex's spirit is showing itself in the form of a jaguar?" Sam really didn't like this idea at all.

"I don't know, you're the ghost expert, you tell me. Maybe it follows her even though she's dead and is following her ghost?"

"That could be. It could also be very bad. She's angry and if she is maybe it is too. Or she has some sort of control over it. That would be like having two angry spirits working together."

When water slapped against the sides of the fountain pond they both stopped talking and looked at the structure. Ripples formed and skimmed from one side to the center fountain, coursed around it and to the opposite side. Blair sucked in a breath and Sam arched an eyebrow.

"There's no wind," Blair said, his voice pitched low.

Reaching out, Sam took hold of Blair's arm. "We should probably not be here. This fountain seems to be her favorite killing spot."

Blair backed away, one hand going to Sam's arm, urging him to move faster. "Yeah, you're probably right." When the temperature dropped, causing the breath they exhaled to become frosty tendrils in the air Blair's eyes widened. "What the—"

His words were cut off and in the next instant he was flung away from the spot he stood on, not stopping until he crashed into the side of the fountain. His body twisted around and he was bent face first into the water. Arms flailing at his sides, Blair got his head up once, gasping for breath before his head and shoulders were forced into the water.

Sam had only a few seconds before the translucent image of a woman flickered in front of him. She moved at him in that choppy, too quick way spirits always had of transporting themselves. As her hands connected with his chest and sent him sprawling to the ground he had a glimpse of Blair, a jaguar holding him under the water with both paws firmly on his shoulders.

Trying to get up, to help Blair, was useless, but Sam pushed and struggled against unseen restraints until he was pulled up and off the ground, held suspended for a few seconds and sent crashing down with enough force his vision went dark.

When the world spun back into clarity, Sam had only a brief glance of Blair being pulled away by the jaguar. His next sensation was water being sucked up his nose making his eyes sting and tear and his sinuses scream in protest. Getting both hands under him, Sam tried pushing away from the fountain's edge, but it was useless. The more he pushed, the more he was shoved under the water.

A persistent and annoying ringing in his ears escalated until it blocked out the gurgling sound of the water. Sam's lungs felt like they were going to burst, yet he clamped his lips tightly shut. Opening them and drawing in a breath meant certain death.

The dim sound of footsteps and voices reached through the ever increasing ringing and registered vaguely in his brain. He cringed closer to the edge of the fountain when something spoken got through the haze and registered in his subconscious. A shotgun blast reverberated through the air above him and he was free. Coughing, Sam pushed away from the fountain and sagged onto the ground.

A grip he immediately recognized as his brother's had him by the shoulders and was easing him into a sitting position. He heard Dean mutter something about a permit and rocksalt rounds. Braced against Dean, he pointed in the direction he'd seen the jungle cat go with Sandburg. "That way…big spotted cat…Blair…was in water…"

"Crap," Ellison spat.

Dean propped Sam against the fountain, holding his chin in one hand, and peered at him. "You okay for a minute, Sammy?"

"Gotta…Blair…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Dean backed up and stood, turning to Ellison. "Here, take this and shoot at anything that isn't your buddy. It won't kill the ghost but it'll slow it down." Taking a few steps forward, Dean pressed his sawed off into Ellison's hands.

"This is illegal."

"So is murder, which is what is going to happen to your partner if you don't get a move on. Only difference is, you won't be able to toss his killer in a jail cell. Get there and hold her off with the rocksalt rounds. She's probably taken him to the building where her art is. We'll get the rest of the paintings into the incinerator and get a fire going." Dean dug in one pocket and yanked out a box, tossing it to Ellison.

The detective caught the extra rounds out of the air easily, nodded once and spun on his heels, running full tilt away from the fountain.

Dean moved away. Sam saw three paintings scattered on the sidewalk, his brother must have dropped them there to get Sam out of the fountain. Watching as Dean gathered them and shoved them under his arm, Sam managed to sit a bit straighter.

"You good?"

Holding out one hand for help up, Sam nodded. "I think so." He took another few deep breaths to get himself together and started to follow Dean, running into his back. "Sheesh, signal!"

"Do they not lock the cage doors at the zoo around here?" Dean threw his free hand in the air and looked over his shoulder at Sam. "I don't like this town, it's weird and for me to say it's weird, it's freaking a _lot_ weird!"

Sam stood, mouth agape, staring at the creatures a few feet in front of them. "Blair seemed convinced Alex had an animal that was her spirit guide, that big cat."

"For what?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "It followed her around. He said the cat represented a guardian. I'm not sure I buy it."

Dean snorted, "Not much of a guardian if she kills people. What are those?"

A large, solid black version of the same cat Sam had seen earlier sat contemplating them with patient eyes. It didn't move and Sam got none of the dangerous vibes he'd gotten from the spotted feline. Next to it and a few feet to the right a timber wolf paced back and forth. Eyes focused on them, it scratched at the pavement, whined and ducked its head before backing up a few steps.

When they simply stood there watching the animals, the wolf repeated its actions, this time adding a sharp yip. It sidled up to the panther, dipped its head to rub under the panther's chin and yipped again. The panther sat back on muscled haunches and cuffed the wolf's ears, earning a decidedly dirty glare from the wolf.

"Great. Just _great_. Dogs and cats sleeping together. What's next, the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man? Sammy, I do _not_ like this town."

"Uh, Dean." Sam tapped his brother's shoulder. "I think it wants us to follow them."

"Oh yeah, sure. We're not Timmy and they sure as hell aren't Lassie."

As if to prove Sam was right, the wolf trotted off a few paces, looked back and yipped. It spun in a circle and moved a few steps at them then away.

"We're coming," Dean groused, jogging after the wolf. "But dude, we already know where to go."

The panther twitched an ear and flicked its tail before bounding after the wolf. When they reached the building with the incinerator both animals ran through the wall, evaporating from sight.

* * *

Jim didn't waste time searching the upper floors of the building, he didn't have to, Blair's distinct scent and heartbeat came from the lowest level. At least whatever prevented his senses from working normally before was gone, he hoped it stayed that way. Heading straight for the basement, he slammed to a halt as soon as he was clear of the stairs. The paintings they'd collected and Dean had said were already in the incinerator were in a heap on the floor. On top of them, too still and far too pale for Jim's liking was Blair. His fingers twitched and he moaned, but was far from actually coherent. The blood trickling along his cheek sent slivers of fear up and down Jim's spine.

A cold chill worked its way through his entire body. Standing on the other side of Blair was Alex. Not the Alex he'd seen last, a woman—albeit crazy—of flesh and blood and bone, but some hideous representation of her. When she pulled her lips up, revealing teeth and a partial jaw bone the action was jerky, almost fake. Her movements and actions reminded him of a puppet.

When he raised the sawed off and took a step closer she kicked out, catching Blair squarely in the ribs. His body convulsed from the blow and he exhaled a soft whimper. Jim honed in on the image of Alex, no heartbeat, no body scent, not even the slightest sound of breathing. He'd seen confirmation of her death with his own eyes, yet those same eyes were looking at her now.

Not Alex, some ethereal representation of her. Whatever it was he looked at right now, the intent was clear, she—_it_—wanted Blair dead. It didn't matter why or that her motives made no sense. Then again, irrational people or their spirits didn't need to make sense, Jim reasoned. If this was a ghost, she certainly wasn't anything like the soft, gentle ghost of a murdered woman he'd seen so many years ago who simply wanted her killer brought to justice.

Gaze dropping to the shotgun in his hand for no more than a split second, Jim took a step sideways, drawing Alex's attention to him and away from Blair. In one swift, smooth movement, Jim raised the weapon and fired at Alex's head.

In a deafening screech of sound she blew apart, her form creating a starburst that dissolved in white and gray haze.

"That was special." Jim looked from the sawed off to the spot Alex had only seconds ago occupied, to Blair. "Chief."

He had no idea how long he'd have or if the gun blast had done more than dissipate her. Digging the extra rounds from his pocket he spent all of a few seconds reloading. Winchester had said the rocksalt would slow a spirit down, but not end it. The question was answered when Alex reappeared a few feet away. Leveling the shotgun again, he fired at her head as he'd done before, again dissipating her. Two long strides and he dropped at Blair's side, rolling him over with one hand while keeping the shotgun ready.

Blair groaned again, hand going to his forehead and eyes blinking open. "She was here. How could she be here?"

"I thought you were the one who believed in this stuff?"

Jim gripped Blair's arm and eased him to a sitting position. Blair's fingers wound in his shirt and gripped hard. "Oh, ow, I think I believed the theory a whole lot more than the reality."

"Come on," Jim kept his voice low, grabbed Blair under the arm and stood, pulling his friend with him. Winding one arm around Blair's middle he hefted him closer, supporting more of his weight than Blair did his own.

"We have to burn the paintings," Blair panted and wrapped one arm around his middle. The shuddering breaths he sucked in told Jim how much he was hurting right now.

Making their way to the incinerator, Jim eased Blair against the wall. "You stay there, I'll bring them over, you start a fire and feed them inside."

"Start a fire with what? Rub my fingers together and twitch my nose?" Blair lurched to the side, eyes widening. "Oh shit."

Jim spun around, coming face to face with Alex's spirit again. It was unsettling, he had no warning, she simply appeared. There was no sound, no smell, nothing but a drop in temperature when she was right in his face. She smiled at him and turned away, glaring at Blair.

Arms and legs jerking in an uneven and inhuman manner she flickered into sight and then out only to reappear closer to Blair. Taking aim he didn't have a chance to shoot before she was perilously close to Blair. "Move!"

Blair tried to inch away, but she was too fast. Twin shotgun blasts exploded behind Jim and Alex vanished in a rain of haze and light. Dean dropped a duffel from his shoulder at Sam's feet. At once Sam was digging through it while Dean threw the paintings he carried into the incinerator. Sam tossed him a metal container. The distinct odor of accelerant hit Jim's nostrils at the same time he saw it splash across the paintings and inside of the incinerator.

Blair yelped when Alex's jaguar materialized mid-leap at him, hitting him in the chest and knocking him to the ground.

"Keep them busy, we'll load up and get them burning," Sam called, bolting to the pile of other paintings, grabbing them up and running back to hand them off to his brother.

Jim squinted and made a mental note to ask later why salt was poured on top of the paintings; he'd have thought that would impede the burning part. Apparently not so, since a whoosh accompanied a lick of flame shooting up and out of the incinerator door.

Turning on his heels Jim fired at the jaguar, only mildly surprised when it reacted the same way Alex had to the shotgun blast. Blair rolled over, scrambling to get his feet and hands under him. Closing the distance between them, Jim met him halfway, again grabbing him up and hoisting Blair against his side. They backed away from Alex as she materialized again and advanced on them.

The crackle of the fire the Winchester kids started—and now Jim saw why it was important to pick an isolated place like this—countered the intense cold he felt each time Alex appeared and moved towards them.

He glanced back in time to see Sam throw the last painting into the burner. Dean sprayed it with more of the accelerant, the sharp tangy odor making Jim's eyes water and his nose sting. Another handful of salt was tossed in then Sam lit an entire book of matches, throwing that in last.

A wind blew up, throwing the few loose items in the basement around, threatening to knock Jim and Blair over. Dropping the shotgun, Jim forced Blair to the ground and covered him with his body, at the same time clamping his hands over his ears. The air around him splintered with high pitched, completely inhuman screams rolling around them in waves.

A sickly sweet smell reached him, along with the distinct odor of burning wood making Jim realize it was the paint, canvass and framework of the paintings. The stronger those odors became, the more the paintings were undoubtedly burning. Crackling and snapping followed on the heels of the odors and intensified as the wind rose equally.

Carried on the wind was what had to be the most unnatural noise, scratchy and tinny like fingers on a chalkboard amplified a hundred times. Pain from the racket slammed through his head. His periphery caught movement and he curled more tightly around Blair when something he couldn't identify flew at them.

Then everything went still.

Dragging in a shuddering breath, Jim eased to his knees. Blair brushed hair from his face and pushed off the floor until he sat upright. In unison they turned and looked at the incinerator. Inside a cheery fire was burning itself out, the paintings nothing more than a pile of ash. Much more time had gone by than it felt like, at least judging by the condition of what was left of the paintings.

"That stinks." Blair put one hand over his mouth and stifled a cough.

"You don't have to tell me." Jim stood up and took a look around. "Where are they?" He strode toward the stairs and looked up, about to head to the upper level. The sound of Blair gasping in pain and retching, something thick and liquidy hitting the floor in the general vicinity of Blair's increasing heart rate stopped Jim in his tracks. "Shit," he grumbled and went back to help his friend.

* * *

"Why do you have to arrest them?" Blair climbed out of the truck and slammed the door shut, not caring about the impatient look Jim gave him.

"Oh, I don't know. Illegal weapons for one. I'm sure once I get my hands on those wants and warrants records on the Winchesters I'll have plenty of other reasons, too.

"They saved my life, doesn't that count for anything?"

"No. Yes. Come on Chief, you know I can't just let them go."

"Even if they probably stopped further murders, including mine?" Blair had to jog to keep up, which was difficult with cracked ribs. "Wait up."

Jim stopped his march across the parking lot and turned, giving Blair the critical once over, mumbling, "Sorry. Which room are they in?"

"I dunno." Blair shrugged and looked around the parking lot, not seeing the sleek, black muscle car. "They were in their car driving away when I stopped them."

"And you didn't think to tell me this?"

Blair cringed, Jim sounded a bit miffed. "Jim, man, come on, with getting attacked by a dead woman and all is it that surprising I'd forget?" The look Jim gave him made him duck his head and turn away, of course it was surprising. Jim knew full well Blair wouldn't forget something like that. "Look, you _never_ asked."

Jim ground his teeth, crossed his arms over his chest and huffed an irritated noise. Blair followed along a pace behind and offered Jim a meek smile when they were informed at the office no one by the name of Winchester had registered. A description of the car and the brothers did get them pointed at a motel door halfway down the row of rooms.

Blair scuffed his toe on the ground and stuffed both hands in his pockets when Jim turned a terse expression on him, but said nothing when they found the room empty. "You know, I'd sleep a lot better knowing there wasn't anything else of Alex's hanging around." It was a total ploy and they both knew it. What they also both knew was Jim would put Blair above a couple of strangers. If they were anywhere near Cascade or ever came back, Jim would and could hunt them down and throw them in the jail cell he'd promised to put them in earlier.

Their next stop was the auction house. It didn't take much convincing for the manager to let them see a list of everything the place had. Blair felt a weight lift off him when there was nothing else listed from Alex's estate or that looked as if it might have belonged to her. From there they revisited the nursing home she'd spent her final days in, a babbling, crazy woman Blair was sure.

The staff was kind and helpful, they even let Jim and Blair see her room even though there was another occupant at this point and they had no warrant. There was nothing of value left, but they did hand over a small box of Alex's possessions. The items were mostly toiletries, but to be on the safe side Blair wanted to burn them, as the Winchesters had instructed.

Once back home and safe in their loft, Blair lit a fire in the fireplace and Jim carefully put each item in, letting it burn completely before moving onto the next.

"I'm going to make some dinner." Jim stood and stretched. "You get some rest, you look like crap."

Blair nodded and eased onto the couch, clicking the television on. When Jim was entrenched in the kitchen, busy with his project of food, Blair dug into his pocket and pulled out the paper he'd taken from Jim's desk earlier. Wadding it up he tossed it into the fire and retreated to the couch once again. Maybe that wouldn't stop the Winchesters from being found or arrested, but Blair hoped he'd given them enough of a headstart and they'd be smart enough to stay clear of Cascade…forever.

A plate of spaghetti was plunked down in front of him and Jim nudged at his arm. "Eat up, Chief."

"Thanks, Jim. Smells great. I haven't eaten in forever, it seems."

Jim sat on the chair, eating his own dinner. After a few mouthfuls he glanced at the fireplace then at Blair. "You know, I'll arrest those two if they're in this city, anywhere near it."

"I know. I don't have to like it, but I know."

"You also know that burning the paper copy of their rap sheet won't stop me, or even slow me down much."

"Yeah I…how did you know?"

Jim cracked a grin and thumped two fingers against his chest. "De—tec—tive. Remember? And sulking won't really make a difference either."

Blair stuffed more noodles and sauce into his mouth and nodded. He was safe, Alex was gone for good, he hoped, and Jim had done what he'd needed to for them both to sleep soundly at night. His partner cared enough for him to put personal beliefs aside long enough to ensure Blair's security and forgave him for anything. There wasn't a whole lot more Blair could ask for or expect.

He only hoped if they ran into any more dead criminals that wanted a piece of them he could get some tips over the phone from Sam Winchester. Actually what Blair really hoped was they never had anything other than live criminals.

Either way, he had a friend and partner he could always count on and that was the most important thing in his life.

* * *

"Whatcha doin'?" Dean padded out of the bathroom and dug through his duffel for clean—not very dirty—clothes.

Sam looked up and grinned at his brother, flicking at the laptop screen frame as he spoke. "I found out Jim Ellison used to be an Army Ranger, I'd have thought you two would've gotten along better. Mostly I was trying to see what else I could dig up on sentinels and this spirit guide stuff."

Dean snorted and tugged a tee over his head. "Spirit guides. That's just silly. Sandburg seemed like a fairly intelligent, opened-minded guy, surprises me he'd buy into that crap."

It didn't get beyond Sam that Dean made no mention of Ellison. "Yeah, it's a bit out there. But, we did see those animals. Have you ever seen animal ghosts before?"

Rubbing his chin, Dean put on one of his thoughtful expressions that Sam had learned over the years was mostly fake. "Nope. But it sure doesn't mean animals don't have ghosts, why wouldn't they? Cascade is weird. We need to note that in Dad's journal, Cascade weird, stay away."

"And anywhere else we find with no supernatural activity."

"Ha, you got that right, Sammy." Dean pulled on his jacket and tossed Sam his. "I'm hungry, let's go find some eats."

Sam shut the computer and pulled his own jacket on, trailing after Dean out to the car.

He couldn't help laughing outright when Dean muttered, "No supernatural activity just isn't natural." He shook his head and unlocked Sam's door. "Spirit guides. Takes all kinds I guess. Pizza or Chinese?"

"Dude, please, pizza." Sam settled into the Impala, looking forward to a good meal with extra cheese and pepperoni and some down time with his brother.

**The End**


End file.
